THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

Professor  ^enneth 
KacGowan 


IV\ 


QUINNEYS' 


QUINNEYS' 

A  COMEDY  IN  FOUR  ACTS 


BY 

HORACE  ANNESLEY  VACHELL 

AUTHOR  OF  "SEARCHLIGHTS,"  "JELF'S,"  ETC. 


GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


PUBLISHERS 


NEW  YORK 


TK 
6343 


* 


TO 

HENRY  AINLEY 


JOSEPH  QUINNEY  A  Dealer  in  Antiques 

SAM  TOMLIN    -       -       -       .       -  A  Dealer  in  Antiques, 

Quinney's  brother-in-law 

CYRUS  P.  HUNSAKER  Of  Hunsaker,  New  Mexico 

DUPONT  JORDAN    -  Millionaire 

JAMES       ......  Quinney's  foreman 

SUSAN       ......  Quinney's  wife 

POSY         ......  Quinney's  daughter 

MABEL  DREDGE      -  Quinney's  typist 

TIME    -        -    TO-DAY 

ACT     I.     The  Sanctuary  at  Quinneys'. 

ACT    II.     The  Same. 

ACT  III.     Dining-room  at  Sam  Tomlin's. 

ACT  IV.    Same  as  Act  I. 

The  Action  of  the  Play  takes  place  during  twenty-four  hours. 


All  applications  respecting  amateur  performances  of  this  play 
must  be  made  to  Mr.  Vachell's  agents,  MESSRS.  SAMUEL  FRENCH 
LTD.,  26,  Southampton  Street,  Strand,  London,  W.C. 


First  played  at  the  Haymarket  Theatre,  April  20th , 
1915,  with  the  following  cast: — 

JOSEPH  QUINNEY  -  Mr.  Henry  Ainley 

JAMES  MIGGOTT     -       -       -  Mr.  Godfrey  Tearle 

SAM  TOMLIN Mr.A.G.Poulton 

CYRUS  P.  HUNSAKER    -  Mr.  E.  J.  Caldwell 

DDPONT  JORDAN    -       -       -  Mr.  Roland  Perirvee 

SUSAN       ......  Miss  Sydney  Fairbrother 

POSY         ......  Miss  Marie  Hemingway 

MABEL  DREDGE     ....  Mtss  Mary  Malone 

[Produced  by  Mr.  E.  Lyall  Swete.] 


QUINNEYS' 

ACT  I 

SCENE  I :   The  Sanctuary  in  Quinney's  house  in  Soho  Square. 
TIME  :   The  present  :  eleven  in  the  morning. 

THE  RISE  OF  THE  CURTAIN  DISCLOSES  a  beautiful  room, 
filled  with  rare  and  costly  furniture,  prints  in  colour, 
miniatures  and  tapestry.  Obviously  the  room  belongs 
to  a  collector  who  is  a  connoisseur.  It  is  Georgian  in 
character,  finely  proportioned.  Windows  C.  open  on 
to  the  Square.  Between  the  windows  is  a  magnificent 
Chinese  lacquer  cabinet,  standing  upon  a  Charles  II 
gilded  and  carved  stand.  On  the  cabinet  is  a  Kang  He 
mirror-black  bottle  about  twenty  inches  high.  An  Adam's 
mantelpiece,  with  dog  grate,  in  which  logs  are  burning,  is 
L.  U.L.  is  an  incised  lacquer  screen,  with  a  gilded 
Carolean  chair  in  front  of  it.  Upon  the  mantelpiece  are 
a  set  of  five  blue-and-white  jars,  Oriental  china  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  An  old  Aubusson  carpet  is  on  the 
parquet  floor.  The  walls  are  panelled  in  pale  green  and 
white.  Upon  the  panels  are  prints  in  colour  and  mezzo- 
tints. On  the  walls  are  glass  lustres  arranged  for  electric 
light.  There  is  not  much  furniture,  but  it  is  of  the  finest 
Chippendale  period.  Double  doors  R.,  open  into  a  hall, 
whence  there  is  a  staircase  leading  to  the  ground  floor. 


2  QUINNEYS' 

Down  R.,  against  the  wall,  is  a  glazed  Chippendale  china 
cupboard,  filled  with  choice  specimens.  Upon  a  panel, 
R.,  hangs  a  small  piece  of  tapestry.  In  the  window,  R., 
hangs  a  bird-cage,  with  a  canary  in  it.  There  is  a 
table,  down  L.,  painted  by  Cipriani,  and  a  desk,  R.C., 
with  miniatures  and  china  upon  it.  The  desk  is  what  is 
called  a  Carlton,  standing  upon  slender  legs  and  beauti- 
fully rounded.  There  is  a  table  with  miniatures  up  R. 
A  tabouret  is  opposite  and  near  the  fireplace.  The  cur- 
tains are  of  white  brocade.  A  speaking-tube  is  near  the 
mantelpiece. 

POSY  enters  R.  She  wears  a  white  pinafore  over  a  smart 
tailor-made  coat  and  skirt.  She  is  about  nineteen,  a 
pretty,  graceful  girl,  very  intelligent  and  quick-witted. 
In  speech  she  is  inclined  to  be  slangy,  but  she  speaks  with 
an  accent  which  indicates  a  first-class  education.  She 
carries  in  her  hands  a  small  bowl  holding  polish,  and  a 
soft  duster.  She  places  the  bowl  and  duster  upon  the  desk, 
and  looks  round.  From  the  bosom  of  her  blouse  she  takes 
a  letter.  Then  she  runs  to  the  door,  glances  into  the  hall, 
shuts  the  door,  and  goes  to  the  cabinet,  opens  the  cabinet, 
slips  letter  into  middle  drawer,  and  then  locks  cabinet. 
She  extracts  the  key  from  the  lock,  and  with  a  smile  pops 
it  into  the  mirror-black  bottle.  Having  accomplished  all 
this  to  her  entire  satisfaction,  she  laughs  softly.  Once 
more  she  approaches  the  door  and  listens.  Hearing 
nothing,  she  runs  to  the  speaking-tube  and  whistles  down  it. 

POSY. 

[At  the  tube.]  Who  is  that  ?  Miss  Quinney  is  speaking. 
[Listens  and  laughs.]  Oh!  It's  you,  Jim.  Where's  Father  ? 
Gone  out  ?  [Listens  and  laughs.]  Yes.  Are  you  alone  ? 
[Listens]  So  am  I.  Jim  darling,  I've  slipped  a  letter  into 
the  usual  place.  Get  it  when  we're  at  lunch.  I've  hid  the 


QUINNEYS'  3 

key  in  the  Kang  He  bottle.  [Listens.]  What  ?  You  silly 
boy!  Must  I  ?  All  right.  Just  one.  [She  sends  a  kiss 
down  the  tube  and  laughs].  Now,  it's  your  turn.  [She  puts 
her  ear  to  the  tube  and  laughs  again.]  By-bye.  Mumsie  will 
be  here  in  two  jiffs.  What  ?  Yes,  a  big  one  is  growing,  but 
I'll  keep  it  for  you. 

[She  laughs  again  lightly  as  she  replaces  the  tube.  Then, 
humming  a  little  song,  she  picks  up  the  duster,  dips  it 
into  the  polish  and  begins  to  rub  the  lacquer  very  deli- 
cately. MRS.  QUINNEY  enters  R.,  carrying  a  feather 
duster.  She  is  still  a  pretty  woman  of  middle  age,  who 
obviously  has  not  enjoyed  all  the  advantages  bestowed 
upon  her  daughter.  She  drops  an  occasional  aitch,  and 
is  not  quite  sure  of  her  grammar.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Thought  I  heard  you  talking  just  before  I  come  in. 

POSY. 

[Up  R.C.]  I  was  asking  Jim  through  the  tube  where 
Father  was.  Any  harm  in  that  F 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Crossing  L.]  Jim  ?  Your  father  would  be  very  dis- 
pleased if  he  heard  you  speaking  of  James  as  Jim.  It's  too 
familiar. 

POSY. 
Why? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

I'm  not  going  to  bandy  words  with  you,  Posy,  because 
you  do  get  the  best  of  me — thanks  to  the  extra  fine  schooling 
you've  had. 

POSY. 

Now,  Mumsie,  please  don't  rub  that  in.  I'm  fed  up  with 
such  vain  repetitions  from  Daddy.  I  didn't  ask  him  to  send 


4  QUINNEYS' 

me  to  an  expensive  school.  I  believe  he  did  it  to  annoy  our 
poor  relations. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

Dear  heart!  What  things  you  say!  [Sits  on  tabouret]. 
But  'tis  more  than  half  true.  I  remember  my  mother 
buying  a  pianner  for  the  same  reason.  We  lived  in  a  semi- 
detached, and  it  made  the  neighbours  next  door  tear  their 
hair  with  envy  and  jealousy. 

[Posy  is  rubbing  vigorously,  while  her  mother  stands  on 

the  hearth,  dusting  the  blue- an d-w kite  jars.] 
Rub  that  lacquer  very  gently,  Posy.     Coax  the  polish  back. 

POSY. 
Right  oh! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Father  thinks  the  world  of  that  cabinet. 

POSY. 

[Demurely.]     So  do  I. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Rather  more  sharply.]  Do  you  ?  Then  your  pore  father 
is  comin'  out  in  you.  He  prefers  things  to  persons. 

POSY. 

[Arrested.]     Mumsie! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Obstinately.]  It's  true,  and  you'd  better  be  warned  in 
time,  child.  The  beauty  o'  this  world  ain't  to  be  found  in 
sticks  and  stones.  [Gesture.] 

[PosY  giggles.] 

Nothing  to  giggle  at.  It's  tragedy.  I  firmly  believe,  if 
Father  had  to  choose  between  me  and  this  table — [she  has 
moved  across  to  the  beautiful  table,  painted  by  Cipriani] — he 
wouldn't  take  me. 


QUINNEYS'  5 

POSY. 
Is  it  very  valuable  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

He's  been  offered  four  hundred  pound  for  it.  He's  had 
it  since  before  we  married.  I've  been  jealous  of  thatpainted 
beauty,  I  have. 

POSY. 

[Running  to  her  and  kissing  her.]  You  funny  old  Mumsie ! 
Why,  I've  always  thought  of  you  as  so  happy  and  satisfied. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
I  was  happy  when  we  lived  in  a  cottage  in  York. 

\As  POSY  kisses  her  in  silence,  the  door  opens,  and  MABEL 
DREDGE  appears.  She  is  a  tall,  good-looking  young 
woman,  dark  and  pale.  She  speaks  in  a  quiet,  even 
voiced] 

MABEL. 
If  you  please 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Crossing  C.~\     Mr.  Quinney  is  out,  Miss  Dredge. 

MABEL. 
I  know.     The  chairs  have  just  come. 

POSY. 
The  chairs  from  Christopher's  ? 

[MABEL  nods.] 
How  exciting! 

MABEL. 

Mr.  Quinney  left  orders  that  they  were  to  be  unpacked 
and  brought  up  here.  We  have  unpacked  them. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Then  bring  them  up.     Tell  James. 


6  QUINNEYS' 

MABEL. 
Yes,  madam. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Sharply.]  You're  not  looking  very  well,  Miss  Dredge. 
Lost  your  nice  colour,  what  you  brought  from  the  country. 

MABEL. 
I  am  quite  well,  thank  you,  madam. 

[She  goes  out  quietly,  closing  door.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Crossed  in  love,  I  daresay. 

POSY. 
Poor  dear!     I  hope  not. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

Six  months  ago  I  did  think  that  she  and  James  might 
make  a  match  of  it. 

POSY. 
[Sharply.]     What  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

Why  shouldn't  they  ?  Very  suitable.  Both  staying  in 
the  same  house,  too. 

POSY. 

[Recovering  herself.]  Yes.  [Changing  the  subject  too 
quickly.]  I  suppose  the  Christopher  chairs  are  not  for  sale, 
although  Father  paid  nine  hundred  guineas  for  them. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Surprised.]     Lor',  Posy,  how  do  you  know  what  he  paid  ? 

POSY. 

[Crosses  L.C.]  It's  in  to-day's  paper.  [Runs  across  to 
desk]  Here  you  are!  [Turns  over  a  page]  "  Spirited 


QUINNEYS'  7 

bidding  at  Christopher's  Auction  Rooms.  A  very  remark- 
able set  of  eight  chairs,  said  to  be  by  the  hand  of  Chippendale 
himself,  and  of  his  finest  workmanship,  were  secured  by  the 
famous  dealer,  Mr.  Joseph  Quinney,  for  nine  hundred 
guineas." 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

Sinful !     If  he  means  to  keep  them.     And  he  never  does 
sell  anything  out  of  his  sanctuary. 

POSY. 

[Laying  down  paper.]     I'm  dying  to  see  them. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Mournfully.]     Sticks  and  stones,  child! 

POSY. 

[Going  up  to  cabinet.]     Cheer  up,  Mumsie.     I  shan't  de- 
vote my  young  life  to  a  stick  or  stone. 

[Enter  JIM.  He  is  a  tall  young  man,  evidently  a  thruster 
in  business.  He  is  good-looking,  and  neatly  dressed  in 
plain  blue  serge.] 

JIM. 

Good  morning,  ladies. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Good  morning,  James.     Where  is  Mr.  Quinney  ? 

JIM. 

He  went  to  the  Ritz  this  morning  to  meet  a  Mr.  Hunsaker, 
introduced  by  Mr.  Tomlin. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Who  is  Mr.  Hunsaker  ? 

POSY. 
[With  girlish  excitement.}     I  know  all  about  him,  too! 


8  QUINNEYS' 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Bless  the  child!     What  don't  she  know! 

POSY. 

He's  in  the  paper,  Mumsie.  A  young  American  million- 
aire from  New  Mexico.  Mr.  Cyrus  P.  Hunsaker,  of  Hun- 
saker. 

JIM. 
Where  shall  I  put  the  chairs  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

Anywhere  for  the  moment.  [Turns  up  and  dusts  screen. 
JIM  opens  both  doors,] 

POSY. 
In  a  good  light.     Father  will  want  to  gloat  over  them. 

[MRS.  QUINNEY  sits  on  the  tabouret,  or  stool,  facing  the 
fire,  as  two  WORKMEN  bring  in  four  chairs,  two  each. 
JIM  arranges  them  as  follows.  There  are  in  all  two 
arm-chairs  and  six  plain  chairs,  riband-back  pattern, 
of  Chippendale's  best  period,  with  needle-work  seats. 
The  first  arm-chair,  which,  for  purposes  of  stage  direc- 
tion, we  shall  call  I,  is  placed  near  the  stool  upon  which 
MRS.  QUINNEY  is  sitting,  and  facing  the  audience. 
Three  plain  chairs  are  placed  in  a  diagonal  row  next  to 
it.  Chair  4  will  be  opposite  the  lacquer  cabinet  and 
near  it,  with  room  to  pass  behind  it.  The  other  arm- 
chair 5,  and  chairs  6,  J,  and  8  stretch,  also  diagonally, 
from  the  cabinet  to  the  window,  R.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Pulling  round  arm-chair.]  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me 
that  Mr.  Quinney  paid  nine  hundred  pounds  for  eight  o' 
them  ? 


QUINNEYS'  9 

JIM. 

[C.     Suavely .]     Guineas,  madam. 
[The  WORKMEN  disappear.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[L.C]     Sticks  and  stones! 

JIM. 

Mr.  Quinney  will  sell  them  again  at  a  handsome  profit. 

[Bang  off.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Mind  them  doors,  young  man.     [She  crosses.] 

[While  he  is  talking,  POSY  is  examining  the  chairs  very 
carefully,  with  quite  the  air  of  an  expert's  daughter. 
She  feels  the  "  patine,"  strokes  the  carving,  and  examines 
the  needle-work.] 

[MRS.  QUINNEY  goes  on  to  the  landing] 

POSY. 

[Moving  near  JIM.]     I  suppose  they  are  wonderful. 

JIM. 

If  your  father  thinks  so,  they  are.     [Dropping  his  voice.} 
Posy,  darling 

[Noise  off.] 

POSY. 

[Finger  on  lips]     Shush-h-h! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Off]     You  be  careful  of  my  white  paint,  young  man! 

[PosY  flits  to  the  door,  glances  through  it,  flits  back,  and 
holds  up  her  face  to  be  kissed.     They  move  apart  as  the 
MEN  are  heard  outside] 
B 


io  QUINNEYS' 

POSY. 

[In  her  ordinary  voice.]     What  were  you  saying,  James  ? 

JIM. 

[Ordinary  voice]     Mr.  Quinney  is  putting  these  chairs  in 
here  in  order  to  sell  'em  at  a  top  price. 

[MEN  enter  with  four  more  chairs,  preceded  by  MRS. 
QUINNEY.  MEN  go  out  again,  followed  by  MRS. 
QUINNEY  concerned  about  her  paint] 

Everybody  knows  that  the  things  in  his  sanctuary  are  not 
for  sale  except  at  an  almost  prohibitive  figure. 

JIM. 

[Down  L,,  in  a  whisper.]     I'll  get  my  letter.     [Goes  up  L. 
towards  cabinet] 

POSY. 

[Alarmed]     No!     Wait  till  we're  at  lunch. 

JIM. 

[At  head  of  stool  by  chairs]     [Nodding]     Do  you  think 
you  can  coax  your  father  ? 

POSY. 
I  suppose  Father  appreciates  you,  Jim  ? 

JIM. 

[Arranging  chair  up  C]     At  three  pounds  a  week,  that's 
all. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[At  door]     Three  pounds  a  week  ?     [Goes  to  window] 

JIM. 

[Politely]     My  wages,  Ma'am. 


QUINNEYS'  ii 

POSY. 

[To  her  mother.']     What  does  three  pounds  a  week  mean 
turned  into  appreciation  ? 
[Motor  heard  off.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

The  master  has  just  come  in  with  a  tall  young  gentleman. 
[JiM,  without  replying,  takes  the  hint  and  goes.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
What  was  you  talking  about,  Posy,  to  James  F 

POSY. 
[Lightly]     Values.     [Turning  to  polish  cabinet.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Relieved]     Oh !  business  ? 

[Enter  QUINNEY  :  a  quaint  and  arresting  figure,  evi- 
dently an  original.  He  is  dressed  in  a  grey  morning 
coat  and  trousers,  of  odd  cut  and  very  baggy  at  the  knees. 
His  collar  is  cut  low,  and  his  tie  is  a  big  loose  bow.  Hir 
hair  is  grey,  and  he  sports  a  small  moustache.  Other- 
wise, he  is  clean-shaven.  He  has  odd  gestures,  mutters 
and  chuckles  to  himself,  and  is  obviously  very  absent- 
minded,  except  when  his  interest  is  challenged,  when  he 
becomes  tremendously  alert.  His  complexion  indicates 
a  choleric  and  sanguine  temperament.  Whenever  he 
touches  a  valuable  bit  of  furniture  or  china,  his  voice 
becomes  soft,  and  he  caresses  each  object  almost  sensually 
as  if  the  mere  touch  of  it  was  intense  pleasure  to  him. 
He  speaks  with  a  strong  Yorkshire  accent.  From  his 
voice,  manner  and  general  deportment,  it  is  evident  that 
he  has  a  superlative  opinion  of  himself,  and  his  posses- 
sions. Nevertheless,  the  native  swank  and  conceit  of 
the  man  is  delightfully  tempered  by  his  whimsicality* 
His  smile  is  disarming,  his  laughter  infectious^] 


12  QUINNEYS' 

QuiNNEY. 

Ah !  There  are  the  chairs !  [Looks  round  and  sees  them?] 
Ah !  [Rubs  his  hands  and  chuckles  as  he  goes  to  them.']  I've 
got  a  customer  downstairs  who  wants  to  have  a  look  at  'em. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Shall  Posy  and  I  go  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Examining  chairs,  takes  the  seat  of  one  out,  down  L.C} 
Not  necessary.  Fine,  up-standin'  young  feller.  Money  and 
brains.  Cyrus  P.  Hunsaker. 

[PosY,  at  a  sign  from  her  mother,  takes  off  her  pinafore, 
revealing  a  smart  new  frock.  Round  her  neck  she 
wears  a  string  of  large,  pretty  beads,  decorative  but 
inexpensive.} 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Joe,  dear.     [Coming  down  C.  to  above  desk} 

QUINNEY. 
Hey  ?     [Still  engrossed  with  chairs.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Where  are  we  going  to  for  our  holiday  this  year  ? 

QUINNEY. 

We  ?  I  ain't  going,  Susie.  Too  busy.  You  and  young 
Posy  pick  yer  own  place.  I'll  pay  the  bill.  Hello!  hello! 

[He  leaves  the  chairs  and  crosses  to  the  Chippendale 
cabinet,  R.,  which  he  unlocks.  MRS.  QUINNEY'S  face 
indicates  disappointment.  She  shrugs  her  shoulders, 
and  makes  another  sign  to  POSY,  who  approaches  her 
father} 

POSY. 
Daddy.     {Coming  down  R.  to  him} 


QUINNEYS'  13 

QuiNNEY. 

[Not  looking  at  her,  taking  down  a  bit  of  china  which  he 
caresses  lovingly.]     Yes  ? 

POSY. 
How  do  you  like  my  new  frock  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Absent-mindedly ]     Dirty — very  dirty. 

POSY. 
What !     My  lovely  frock — dirty  ? 

QUINNEY. 
[Staring  at  her,  smiling]     No,  this  bit  of  china,  love. 

POSY. 

[Pouting]     I  asked  how  you  liked  my  new  frock. 

QUINNEY. 

[Doubtfully.]     Seems  all  right.     [He  stares  at  the  beads.] 
Where  you  get  them  beads  ? 

POSY. 
A  friend  gave  them  to  me.     Aren't  they  pretty  ? 

QUINNEY. 
[Roughly]     Take  'em  off!     Quick! 

[She  does  so  reluctantly] 
Give  'em  to  me. 

[She  does  so.     He  examines  them  with  an  angry  snort] 
Thought  so !     Cheap  rubbish — and  you  know  I  hate  rubbish 
[Hands  them  back]     Give  'em  to  one  o'  the  servants.     By 
gum !    I'd  hate  to  have  Mr.  Hunsaker  see  you  wearing  them. 
Hold  on! 

[He  goes  to  his  desk,  opens  a  drawer,  L.,  pulls  out  a  handful 
of  beautiful  old  necklaces,  selects  two,  and  holds  them 
up,  smiling  and  chuckling] 


i4  QUINNEYS' 

QUINNEY. 

There,  my  pretty  Do'y.  Take  your  choice.  [He  holds 
them  out,  one  in  each  hand.] 

POSY. 

[Drops  beads  on  desk.]  Daddy!  [She  laughs.]  This  one. 
[Comes  to  his  left.]  Thanks — most  awfully. 

QUINNEY. 

Good  lass!  You've  picked  best.  Put  it  on.  Don't  let 
me  never  see  my  daughter  wearin'  rubbish  again!  [He 
crosses  down  and  over  to  L.] 

[MRS.  QUINNEY  collects  dusters  from  cabinet,  while 
QUINNEY  stumps  up  to  the  speaking-tube.  POSY 
shows  the  necklace  to  her  mother,  who  fastens  it  round 
her  neck.] 

\At  tube,  whistling  down  it.]  Is  that  you,  Miss  Dredge  ? 
Tell  our  James  to  bring  Mr.  Hunsaker  up  here.  [Replaces 
tube  and  comes  back  to  his  desk.] 

[PosY  crosses  to  door.    MRS.  QUINNEY  collects  feather 
broom  and  polish  bowl,  as  QUINNEY  puts  the  necklaces 
into  drawer,  and  is  shutting  it] 
Ho!     Where  are  you  going,  my  lass  ? 

POSY. 
[Laughing.]     To  look  at  myself  in  a  glass. 

QUINNEY. 

No,  yer  don't.  [Sits  at  desk.]  I  want  this  young  Yank 
to  look  at  yer  first.  See  ? 

POSY. 

Right  ho!  [She  runs  across  to  stool,  jumps  on  it  and  looks 
at  herself  in  glass  above  mantel.] 


QUINNEYS'  15 

JIM  opens  the  door,  ushering  in  MR.  HUNSAKER.  JIM 
retires.  HUNSAKER  is  a  well-made  young  man,  full  of 
beans,  keen  in  look  and  voice  and  manner.  Typically 
a  Westerner.  He  speaks  with  slight  accent.  His  first 
glance  falls  on  POSY.  Obviously  he  is  much  taken  with 
her  charming  appearance] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Posy!  Posy! 

QUINNEY. 

[Rises.  Genially.]  This  is  the  sanctuary,  Mr.  Hunsaker. 
What  do  you  think  of  it,  hey  ? 

HUNSAKER. 
[Staring  at  POSY.]      Beautiful!      [PosY  jumps  off  stool.] 

QUINNEY. 

[Chuckling.]  Everything  here  I  value  most,  including  my 
wife  and  daughter.  [He  takes  bowl  and  broom  from  MRS. 
QUINNEY,  places  them  on  desk  and  then  walks  round  the 
chairs.] 

HUNSAKER. 

Pleased  to  meet  you,  ladies.  I've  heard  of  this  famous 
sanctuary.  [Below  desk.] 

POSY. 

[Coming  forward,  followed  by  MRS.  QUINNEY.]  We  have 
heard  of  Mr.  Hunsaker,  of  Hunsaker.  [To  him.] 

HUNSAKER. 

[At  his  ease  at  once,  and  addressing  POSY.]  Ever  been  told 
how  that  great  and  growing  town  came  to  be  called  after  me? 

POSY. 

[Interested.]     No.     Please  tell  us. 


16  QUINNEYS' 

HUNSAKER. 

[Very  genial.]  In  New  Mexico,  ladies,  they  had  the  habit 
of  calling  towns  after  saints.  They  were  going  to  christen 
my  little  village  San  Clements,  but  I  said  to  the  boys :  "  Hold 
on,  fellers!  Ain't  we  fed  up  with  saints  ?  Let's  call  this 
burg  by  the  name  of  a  sinner."  And — the  joke's  on  me — 
they  called  it — Hunsaker.  [Laughs  heartily.] 

[MRS.  QUINNEY  shakes  her  head  and  goes  round  POSY 
to  desk,  retrieving  her  bowl  and  broom.] 

POSY. 
Are  you  a  sinner,  Mr.  Hunsaker  ? 

HUNSAKER. 

I'm  not  a  saint,  Miss  Quinney,  when  I'm  up  against  the 
wrong  crowd.  Gee!  The  chairs.  [Crosses  L.] 

[PosY  sits  at  desk.] 

QUINNEY. 

[Carelessly]  Good  solid  stuff.  Lordy!  How  I  hate 
rubbish !  Now,  a  cabinet  like  that  [points  to  lacquer  cabinet] 
makes  me  feel  good.  I  can  say  my  prayers  to  it,  Mr. 
Hunsaker.  [Comes  down.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Majestically]     Don't  be  blasphemious,  Joe! 

[QUINNEY  twists  $rd  chair  round  to  light  and  examines 
it  at  window.] 

QUINNEY. 

Blasphemious!  [To  HUNSAKER.]  It's  blasphemy,  to  my 
notion,  to  prefer  ugliness  to  beauty.  The  biggest  crime  I 
didn't  commit,  Mr.  Hunsaker,  was  when  my  poor  misguided 
father  wanted  me  to  marry  an  ugly,  laughin'  hyena  of  a 
draper's  daughter,  just  because  she'd  got  something  in  her 
stockin'  besides  a  leg  like  a  bed-post. 


QUINNEYS'  17 

POSY. 

Daddy!     [Laughs,] 

[HUNSAKER  is  much  amused.     MRS.  QUINNEY  scandal- 
ized^] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Now  you're  indelicate,  Joe! 

QUINNEY. 

[Laughing^  I  chose  her.  [Indicates  MRS.  QUINNEY.] 
And  the  result  [points  to  POSY]  justified  my  choice — hey  ? 

HUNSAKER. 
[Enthusiastically.]     I  should  say  so! 

[Whistle  of  speaking-tube  sounds^] 

QUINNEY. 

[To  MRS.  QUINNEY.]  Tell  em'  downstairs  that  I'm  en- 
gaged, Susie.  [To  POSY.]  You  can  stop  and  help  Father. 
[Below  desk]  [To  HUNSAKER.]  She's  a  good  helpful  child, 
Mr.  Hunsaker. 

[HUNSAKER  rises  nobly  to  the  occasion.  He  smiles 
genially  at  POSY,  as  MRS.  QUINNEY  walks  to  door, 
carrying  duster  and  polish^ 

HUNSAKER. 

I  take  Miss  Posy  to  be  the  most  precious  object  in  this 
wonderful  room,  sir.  The  gem — if  I  may  say  so — of  your 
re-markable  collection. 

[MRS.  QUINNEY  has  quietly  disappeared.  POSY  stands  at 
attention,  close  to  HUNSAKER.  Her  eyes  are  demurely 
cast  down  while  her  father  is  speaking] 

QUINNEY. 

[Chucking  her  under  the  chin]  Yes,  she  is,  bless  her!  Just 
like  a  bit  of  old  Chelsea,  hey  ?  The  real  soft  paste!  And  as 


1 8  QUINNEYS' 

good  as  she's  pretty  ;  the  apple  of  Father's  eye.  Educated, 
too,  Mr.  Hunsaker.  Finishing  school  at  Brighton.  Plays 
the  pi-anner  and  the  mandoline.  Sings  like  a  canary.  Cost 
me  five  thousand  pound. 

POSY. 
Oh,  Daddy,  surely  not  so  much  as  that? 

QUINNEY. 

[To  HUNSAKER.]  I  figure  it  out  like  this.  One  way  and 
t'other,  our  Posy  stands  me  in  nigh  upon  fifteen  hundred. 
If  I'd  put  that  into  old  Waterford  glass,  it  would  have  been 
a  clean  five  thousand,  see  ? 

HUNSAKER. 

[Laughing.]  I  see.  But  you  won't  keep  her  long,  Mr. 
Quinney. 

QUINNEY. 

[Sharply.]     What  ? 

HUNSAKER, 
Not  if  there  are  any  spry  young  men  about. 

QUINNEY. 

[Solemnly.]  I'm  going  to  hold  on  tight  to  my  little  lass — 
and  don't  you  forget  it.  She  is  the  gem  of  my  collection. 
[Moving  back  chair  4.]  Lordy !  We're  wastin'  your  valu- 
able time.  'Ere,  Posy,  get  that  case  of  miniatures,  the  small 
one.  [She  goes  for  it.]  I  can  show  you  a  Samuel  Cooper, 
two  Englehearts,  a  Plimer,  and  any  number  of  Cosways. 

[PosY  puts  case  on  the  desk] 

HUNSAKER. 

I  know  nothing  of  miniatures.  That's  some  table  1 
[Points  to  Cipriani  table] 


QUINNEYS'  19 

QuiNNEY. 

[Rubbing  his  hands  enthusiastically.]  Champion!  Mr. 
Hunsaker,  it's  a  pleasure  to  show  you  stuff.  You  have  the 
collector's  eye,  sir.  Posy,  them  chairs  is  all  over  the  room. 

[He  moves  chair  5  back  to  wall.      POSY  moves  J  and  8.] 
We  got  that  table I've  refused  four  hundred  for  it. 

HUNSAKER. 
Dollars  ? 

QUINNEY. 
No  ;  pounds !    It  was  a  rare  bargain.  Painted  by  Cipriani. 

HUNSAKER. 

Indeed. 

[PosY  moves  chair  6.] 

QUINNEY. 
Has  a  history,  too.     [Chuckles.] 

HUNSAKER. 
May  I  ask  for  the  history,  Mr.  Quinney  ? 

QUINNEY. 

It's  history  includes  one  broken  leg  and  a  fit!  [Chuckles 
.again.] 

HUNSAKER. 

My  curiosity  is  excited,  sir. 

POSY. 

[Eagerly]     So  is  mine. 

QUINNEY. 
[With  a  slight  change."]     Um ! 

POSY. 

Daddy — -please  ! 


20  QUINNEYS' 

QUINNEY. 

That  table  belonged  to  a  rum  old  maiden  lady  what  lived 
in  York.  She  knew  nothing  of  its  value,  or  who  painted  it. 
A  dealer  offered  her  five  pounds  for  it. 

POSY. 
Oh! 

QUINNEY. 

She  hesitated,  and  he  saw  she  was  tempted ;  but  she 
refused,  and  he  didn't  dare  offer  more.  The  old  lady  had 
one  or  two  bits  of  Early  Worcester  ;  so,  on  pretence  of  show- 
ing these  to  a  collector,  the  dealer  turned  up  a  few  days  after 
with  a  stout  friend,  apoplectic-lookin'  chap.  The  stout 
friend  praises  the  china — see  ?  And  then  he  begins  to  froth 
at  the  mouth,  having  previously  slipped  a  bit  of  soap  under 
his  tongue.  Then  he  pretends  to  fall  down  in  a  fit,  and  as  he 
falls,  grabs  the  table,  and  breaks  off  a  leg.  There's  where  the 
leg  was  mended.  \Down  on  his  knees.]  Neat  job,  too! 
[Indicates  the  injured  leg.] 

POSY. 

But  why  did  he  do  this  ? 

QUINNEY. 

Why,  Miss  Bloomin'  Innocence  ?  [Up.]  [Chuckles.]  I'll 
explain.  When  the  fellow  came  to,  after  his  fit,  the  dealer 
apologized,  and  said  that  the  only  reparation  he  could  offer 
would  be  the  fi'-pun  note  previously  offered.  The  old  lady 
gobbled  it  quick  ! 

HUNSAKER. 

[Warmly, ]  A  couple  of  scoundrels !  Men  are  lynched  for 
less  than  that  in  my  country. 


QUINNEYS'  21 

QuiNNEY. 

[Genuinely  surprised.]  Lord  bless  you,  Mr.  Hunsaker, 
the  old  girl  didn't  know  the  value  of  the  article.  I  take  it 
you  buy  in  the  cheapest  market,  and  sell  at  the  biggest 
profit,  hey  ? 

HUNSAKER. 

Yes.     But 

QUINNEY. 

So  do  I.  If  folk  knew  the  value  of  what  they  own,  we 
dealers  would  starve.  Now  then,  let  me  show  you  some  of 
my  Prunus  jars.  [Goes  to  mantelpiece.] 

HUNSAKER. 

[Turning  to  the  chairs  I  and  2]  Are  these  the  Christopher 
chairs  ? 

QUINNEY. 

They're  the  Quinney  chairs. 

[HUNSAKER  nods.] 
They  came  out  of  an  old  castle  in  the  West  of  Ireland. 

HUNSAKER. 

I  reckon  you  satisfied  yourself,  Mr.  Quinney,  that  they 
were  O.K. 

QUINNEY. 

I  know  more  about  chairs  than  any  man  in  the  kingdom. 
Look  at  this  chair,  Mr.  Hunsaker.  [He  holds  up  the  Carolean 
chair  near  screen^]  See  that  rose.  It's  a  Stuart  rose.  And 
that  crown  on  the  front  splat  is  an  emblem  of  loyalty  to 
King  Charles  II,  the  Merry  Monarch. 

HUNSAKER. 

[Tremendously  impressed]     You  don't  say  so. 


22  QUINNEYS' 

QuiNNEY. 

[Best  showman's  manner]  Pay  particular  attention,  sir, 
to  the  legs,  paw  and  claw,  the  lion's  claw,  indicatin'  the 
strength  of  the  British  Constitootion  after  the  Restoration. 

HUNSAKER. 

Gee! 

QUINNEY. 
[Solemnly]     Chapter  of  English  history  that  chair! 

HUNSAKER. 
You  bet  your  socks! 

[PosY  comes  down  C] 
Is  it  for  sale,  Mr.  Quinney  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Patting  the  chair  as  if  it  were  a  beloved,  child.]  No  ;  it 
isn't.  [Puts  chair  back] 

HUNSAKER. 

I  like  these  chairs  best.  Allow  me.  [He  helps  POSY  with 
chair  2] 

POSY. 
Thank  you. 

QUINNEY. 
I  thought  you  had  all  the  Chippendale  you  wanted  ? 

HUNSAKER. 

[Up  R]  I've  got  more  than  I  want — which  isn't  Chip- 
pendale. 

QUINNEY. 

Posy !  Coming  over !  [Throws  small  bunch  of  keys  to  POSY.} 
Get  out  that  Family  Noire  bowl ! 

[PosY  goes  to  china  cupboard  and  opens  it.    QUINNEY 
takes  blue-and-white  jar  from  the  mantelpiece] 


QUINNEYS'  23 

HUNSAKER. 

I've  been  badly  done  over  English  mahogany. 

QUINNEY. 

Dear!  dear!  I've  been  done  too,  in  my  time,  crisp  as  a 
biscuit.  Everybody's  done,  hey  ?  [Caresses  far.] 

HUNSAKER. 

[Grimly.]  I'm  never  done  by  the  same  man — twice.  [He- 
examines  the  arm-chair, .]  Beautiful! 

QUINNEY. 

By  gum!  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  the  settee  that  I 
sold  to  the  Grand  Duke  Alexis  of  Roosia. 

HUNSAKER. 

I  understand,  Mr.  Quinney,  that  you  paid  nine  hundred 
guineas  for  the  set  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Holds  up  jar.]  I  had  two  glasses  of  old  brown  sherry 
after  lunch.  My  advice  to  all  and  sundry  is:  "Buy  before 
lunch,  unless " 

HUNSAKER. 

Unless  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Jovially.]  Unless  you're  a  bloomin'  vegetarian  and 
teetotaler. 

HUNSAKER. 
Will  you  take  a  profit  on  your  chairs,  Mr.  Quinney  ? 

QUINNEY. 

You  look  at  that  Family  Noire  bowl,  and  you  won't  want 
to  buy  chairs. 

[PosY   has   come    R.C.,    carrying   the   precious   bowl. 
HUNSAKER  turns  to  her.] 


24  QUINNEYS' 

HUNSAKER. 

[Staring  at  POSY.]  Lovely!  [To  QUINNEY.]  Is  the  bowl 
for  sale  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Sharply.]  No — it  isn't.  [He  replaces  the  blue-and-white 
jar  on  the  mantelpiece,  as  POSY  puts  back  the  bowl  into 
the  cupboard."] 

HUNSAKER. 

[Near  chairs,  turning  his  back  to  audience.]  Suffering 
Mike !  That's  an  elegant  bottle ! 

[He  indicates  the  mirror-black  bottle  on  the  lacquer 
cabinet.  POSY  approaches  the  cabinet,  evidently 
alarmed^ 

QUINNEY. 

There  ain't  a  finer  bit  of  mirror-black  Kang  He  in  the 
Salting  collection. 

[PosY  begins  to  rub  the  cabinet  again.] 

HUNSAKER. 
[Going  up  to  her.]    Chinese  lacquer  ? 

POSY. 
Yes,  sir. 

QUINNEY. 
On  a  Charles  the  Second  stand.    [Smacks  his  lips.] 

HUNSAKER. 

Is  it  signed  inside  ?    [At  L.  corner  of  stand.} 

QUINNEY. 

[Going  up.]  No,  but  the  inside  is  as  beautiful  as  the  out- 
side. I'll  show  it  to  you.  Hullo !  where's  the  key  ?  [Looks 
at  POSY.] 


QUINNEYS'  25 

POSY. 
It  was  in  the  lock  the  day  before  yesterday.     I  saw  it. 

QUINNEY. 
Can  you  see  it  now,  lass  ? 

POSY. 

No. 

HUNSAKER. 

Don't  trouble.     Is  that  screen  Chinese  ? 

QUINNEY. 

Yes,  incised  lacquer.  They  wanted  that  for  the  South 
Kensington.  Hits  you  bang  in  the  eye — hey  ? 

HUNSAKER. 

Is  it  for  sale  ? 

QUINNEY. 

No,  it  isn't. 

HUNSAKER. 

[Impressed.]  Mr.  Quinney,  [sits  on  stool]  you  have  here 
an  incomparable  reservation.  It's  a  gratuitous  education 
to  look  at  your  things,  sir. 

QUINNEY. 

It's  the  only  education  I've  had,  by  gum!  I  began  life  as 
a  worm-holer. 

HUNSAKER. 
A  worm-holer  ? 

QUINNEY. 

Aye !  Had  to  make  worm-holes  in  old  wood.  [Chuckles.] 
By  gum!  I  invented  a  special  machine  for  it. 

c 


26  QUINNEYS' 

HUNSAKER. 

Mighty  interesting.  I  wish,  Mr.  Quinney,  that  I  could 
persuade  you  to  part  with  some  of  your  treasures.  [Rising.] 
Is  that  cabinet  for  sale  ? 

QUINNEY. 

No,  it  isn't.  [Coming  down  to  chair  i]  But  as  we've 
never  had  no  dealings  to  speak  of,  I  will  try  to  oblige  you. 
What  do  you  want  ? 

HUNSAKER. 
This  set  of  chairs.     [Placing  hand  on  chair  I .] 

QUINNEY. 
Anything  else  ? 

HUNSAKER. 

That  bottle.  [Points  to  the  jar  which  contains  the  key  of 
cabinet.} 

QUINNEY. 

[Carelessly.]  Don't  care  so  much  about  that  bottle. 
There  ought  to  be  two  of  'em. 

HUNSAKER. 
Will  you  take  a  £200  profit  on  those  chairs  ? 

QUINNEY. 
I  paid  guineas,  Mr.  Hunsaker. 

HUNSAKER. 

I'll  offer  eleven  hundred  guineas.  I  take  it  that  the 
newspapers  reported  the  price  you  paid  correctly  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Pulling  a  paper  from  his  pocket]  There  you  are.  [Hands 
it  to  HUNSAKER,  who  reads  it]  Christopher's  receipt  for  my 
money. 


QUINNEYS'  27 

HUNSAKER. 

Quite  in  order.     [Returns  it.] 

[Posv,  while  engaged  on  her  task,  has  followed  this  talk 
with  increasing  interest^ 

QUINNEY. 
Are  you  wanting  them  for  yourself  ? 

HUNSAKER. 

I  want  them  for  my  house  in  Hunsaker.  It  cost  two 
hundred  thousand  dollars  outside,  and  I'm  putting  as  much 
again  into  it. 

QUINNEY. 
They're  yours,  sir. 

HUNSAKER. 
I  am  much  obliged. 

QUINNEY. 

And,  just  to  sweeten  this  deal,  I'll  throw  in  the  mirror- 
black  bottle.  It's  been  feeling  extra  cold  without  its  mate. 
[He  approaches  the  bottle,  which  stands  on  the  cabinet^] 

POSY. 

Shall  I  clean  it,  Father  ? 

QUINNEY. 

It's  as  clean  as  you  are,  my  lass,  or  ought  to  be.  [He- 
takes  up  the  bottle  from  POSY,  and  gazes  at  it  lovingly,  smooth- 
ing its  beautiful  surfaced] 

HUNSAKER. 
[Warmly.]     You  are  very  generous.     [Up  to  QUINNEY.] 

QUINNEY. 

[With  a  wink.]  I  wasn't  born  yesterday !  You've  money 
to  burn,  and  there  are  other  things  on  sale  downstairs, 
[Hands  jar  to  HUNSAKER,  who  examines  it.] 


28  QUINNEYS' 

HUNSAKER. 

Any  marks  ? 

QuiNNEY. 

They  never  did  mark  them  bottles. 

[HUNSAKER  turns  the  jar  upside  down.  The  key  drops 
out  of  it] 

Hullo,  hullo!     Why,  it's  the  missing  key,  by  gum! 

HUNSAKER. 
You  mean  it  ?     Thanks  awfully. 

[QUINNEY  picks  key  up,  and  places  it  in  the  lock  of  the 
cabinet.  POSY  exhibits  slight  nervousness.] 

HUNSAKER. 

[Glancing  at  watch.].  I  am  late  for  an  important  appoint- 
ment ;  but  I'll  call  again  to-morrow  morning,  at  eleven 
sharp. 

QUINNEY. 
Always  at  your  service,  Mr.  Hunsaker.     [Takes  bottle.] 

HUNSAKER. 

Thank  you,  sir.  [Shakes  hands,  and  then  turns  to  POSY.] 
Good-bye,  Miss  Posy. 

POSY. 

Good-bye,  Mr.  Hunsaker.     [Shakes  hands.] 

[HUNSAKER  goes  out,  followed  by  QUINNEY.  Instantly 
POSY  flies  to  the  lacquer  cabinet,  hesitates,  listens  and 
is  about  to  open  it  with  obvious  intention  of  retrieving 
her  letter,  when  HUNSAKER'S  voice  is  heard] 

HUNSAKER. 

I  can  find  my  way  down  alone,  Mr.  Quinney.  Till  to- 
morrow, sir. 


QUINNEYS'  29 

[Posv  has  just  time  to  leave  the  cabinet,  and  to  take  up  a 
position  on  the  hearthrug,  apparently  staring  at  the  blue- 
and-white  vases,  when  QUINNEY  comes  back.  He  is- 
chuckling  and  rubbing  his  hands.] 

POSY. 
You  look  pleased,  Daddy. 

QUINNEY. 

[Closing  door.]  I  am  pleased.  [Meets  her,  staring  keenly 
at  her]  Did  that  young  man  squeeze  your  hand  just  now  t 

POSY. 

Daddy! 

QUINNEY. 
Did  he  ? 

POSY. 
[Laughing.]     If  you  must  know,  he — did. 

QUINNEY. 

[Rubbing  his  hands]  Good!  Kind  o'  test  case.  You 
ain't  seen  many  o'  the  real  right  sort  in  young  men,  and  I 
just  wanted  to  satisfy  myself  what  effect  you  might  have  on 
'em.  He  liked  you  even  better  than  the  chairs.  [He  pats 
her  cheek  and  then  sits  at  his  desk.] 

POSY. 

[Hesitatingly]  Daddy  dear.  I'd  like  to  ask  you  a 
question.  [Fidgets  slightly.] 

QUINNEY. 

Don't  fidget,  lass!  Ask  your  question.  [Chuckles]  L 
don't  promise  to  answer  it. 

POSY. 
This  table 


30  QUINNEYS' 

QUINNEY. 

What  of  it  ? 

POSY. 

Mumsie  said  you  had  it  at  York.  [Nervously.]  Do  you 
know  the  name  of  the  dealer  who  played  that  trick  on  the 
old  maiden  lady  ? 

QUINNEY. 
Yes,  I  do.     [Frowns.] 

POSY. 

What  was  his  name  ? 

QUINNEY. 
I'd  like  to  lie  to  you,  but  I  won't.     His  name  was  Quinney. 

POSY. 
Oh !  it  was — you  ? 

QUINNEY. 

That's  right!  Go  on!  Believe  the  worst  of  your  own 
father. 

POSY. 

It  wasn't  you  ? 

QUINNEY. 
No.     It  was  your  grandfather — see  ? 

POSY. 

[Miserably.]  He  got  it  for  five  pounds,  and  you've  re- 
fused four  hundred  for  it!  Oh!  [Falls  into  chair  I,  and 
f overs  her  face  with  her  hands] 

QUINNEY. 
Lordy!     Whatever  is  the  matter  ? 


QUINNEYS'  31 


POSY. 
It  seems  such  a  swindle. 

QuiNNEY. 

[Rises  to  C.,  fiercely,  and  on  his  defence^]  Now,  look  ye 
here.  I'm  going  to  put  you  right  on  this  for  ever  and  ever. 
Who  creates  the  big  values  of  pictures  and  furniture  ? 

POSY. 
I — I  don't  know. 

QUINNEY. 

We  do — [decisively] — we  dealers.  It's  not  the  silly  owners, 
who  don't  even  know  enough  to  keep  their  good  stuff  in 
decent  condition.  It's  not  the  ignorant  public.  It's — us\ 
[Holds  up  his  head,  inflating  his  chest.]  We  create  the  de- 
mand, and  we  fix  the  price,  and,  by  gum!  we're  entitled  to 
the  profit. 

POSY. 

[More  meekly.]     But  that  table  was  come  by  dishonestly 

QUINNEY. 
I  don't  deny  it.     Pore  dealers  are  not  trained  to  be  honest 

Got  that  ? 

[She  nods.] 

But  I  value  honesty.  Proof  ?  I've  spent  time  and  money 
in  makin'  you  honest.  Never  struck  you,  did  it  ?  that 
you  owe  your  honesty  to  me,  that  I've  paid  for  it.  Don't 
you  dare  to  judge  my  father  or  your  father  by  the  standard 
which  I've  given  you! 

POSY. 

I  told  the  girls  at  school  you  were  the  most  honest  dealer 
in  London. 


32  QUINNEYS' 

QUINNEY. 

[Quietly.]  So  I  am — the  honestest  dealer  in  all  the  world. 
Scoot  off  to  Mother.  [He  rises  and  crosses  room,  moving  up 
stage.  He  looks  at  chair  he  has  left.] 

POSY. 

[Glancing  nervously  at  cabinet.]  Shan't  I  finish  polishing 
that  ? 

QUINNEY. 

Not  now.  You  oughtn't  to  be  doing  it  at  all,  spoiling 
your  pretty  hands.  Scoot! 

POSY  obeys  slowly.  Obviously  she  hates  to  leave  the  room 
without  retrieving  her  letter  in  the  cabinet.  QUINNEY, 
at  his  desk,  is  bending  over  some  papers.  POSY  glances 
at  the  cabinet  and  then  at  him,  and  then  pauses  near  the 
chairs.  She  stares  at  them.] 

POSY. 

Didn't  you  have  some  old  walnut  chairs  like  these  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Alert^]     Where  did  you  see  them  walnut  chairs  ? 

POSY. 

In  James's  room.     [Going  to  door,  R.,  opening  it] 

QUINNEY. 

[Thunderously]  Ho!  And  what  was  you  doing  in  my 
foreman's  room,  hey  ? 

[PosY  closes  door] 

POSY. 
Is  there  any  reason  why  I  shouldn't  talk  to  your  foreman  ? 


QUINNEYS'  33 

QuiNNEY. 

[C.,  contemptuously^  Aye!  Half  a  dozen;  but  one'll 
do.  [Pauses^] 

POSY. 

[R.C.,  coming  forward.  With  slight  defiance^  May  I 
hear  it  ? 

QUINNEY. 

When  you  come  back  from  that  expensive  boarding- 
school,  a  young  lady  fit  to  compare  or  to  consort  with  any 
in  the  land,  I  told  James  that  his  place  was  downstairs,  and 
that  yours  was — up. 

POSY. 
Well  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Sharply .]  Has  he  been  coming  up  to  you,  or  have  you 
been  sneakin'  down  to  him  ?  Answer  me! 

[PosY  confronts  him  R.C.,  but  slightly  betrays  her  agita- 
tion. QUINNEY'S  expression  softens  as  he  gazes  keenly 
at  her.] 

POSY. 

[With  spirit.]  I  supposed  I  could  go  where  I  liked  in  my 
father's  house.  I  have  seen  James  at  work.  His  work 
interested  me.  It's  not  very  surprising,  is  it  ? — that  I 
should  be  interested  in  your  business. 

QUINNEY. 

[Tapping  her  cheek]  You  mind  your  own,  my  lass,  for 
the  present.  Now — pop  off.  Wait!  Give  us  a  kiss. 

[She  does  so  •  he  looks  at  her,  holding  her  face  between 
his  hands] 

That's  a  little  dear!     You've  got  a  father  with  ambitions. 
Posy,  a  kind,  loving,  clever  old  dad!     [Chuckles]     Lordy! 


34  QUINNEYS' 

Sometimes  I  fair  wonder  at  myself,  I  do  indeed,  because  I've 
climbed  so  high  ;  but  you're  a-going  higher,  bang  up !  Good 
looks.  I'll  admit  that  you  got  some  o'  them  from  Mother, 
and  good  brains,  same  as  mine  ;  quick  wits  too.  You  made 
a  hit  with  Cyrus  Hunsaker.  Now — scoot! 

[She  trips  off  R.     He  watches  her  admiringly.     Then  he 
crosses  to  the  speaking  tube*  and  whistles  down  it.] 

That  you,  my  lad  ?  Mr.  Hunsaker  gone  ?  Right !  Come 
you  up  here.  [Hangs  up  tube,  as  he  turns  to  come  down.  He 
smiles  complacently  at  the  different  objects  in  room.  He  is 
carrying  up  chair  I,  when  JIM  enters  with  a  teapot  in  his  hand.] 
Ho!  I've  sold  the  chairs,  James.  Pack 'em  at  once.  Eh! 
Might  be  a  shop  this  room. 

JIM. 
Yes,  sir. 

QUINNEY. 

[Grumblingly].  Ten  per  cent,  goes  to  Sam  Tomlin.  Eats 
with  his  fore-feet  in  the  trough,  does  my  precious  brother- 
in-law  ! 

JIM. 
Ten  per  cent,  to  Mr.  Tomlin  ? 

QUINNEY. 

He  introduced  Mr.  Hunsaker.  [Down  to  desk.]  What 
you  got  there  ? 

JIM. 

That  square  mark  Worcester  teapot  you  sold  yesterday. 

QUINNEY. 

[Surprised.]     What  about  it  ? 

JIM. 
Customer  brought  it  back.     Says  it's  a  fake. 


QUINNEYS'  35 

QuiNNEY. 

[Irritably.]     It  isn't.     [Leaving  him.] 

JIM. 

[Respectfully.]     I  think  it  is,  sir.     The  paste  is  all  right, 

but  the  gilding.and  some  of  the  decoration  is  of  a  later  period. 

[QUINNEY  seizes  teapot,  carries  it  to  the  window  up  L., 

looking  at  it.     Then  he  comes  back,  goes  to  his  desk, 

gets    a    small    magnifying    glass,    and    examines    it 

frowningly] 

QUINNEY. 

By  gum!  he's  right.  [Sits  at  desk]  What's  the  matter 
with  me  ?  I  passed  that  bit  downstairs. 

JIM. 
Yes,  sir. 

QUINNEY. 

This  just  settles  it.  I  must  take  to  glasses.  Return  the 
money,  and  sell  that  for  what  it  is.  [Hands  back  teapot] 
[More  cheerfully.]  You  ought  to  have  been  here  just  now, 
my  lad.  An  object-lesson  in  selling  stuff! 

JIM. 

[Ingratiatingly]     Nobody  like  you  for  that,  sir. 

QUINNEY. 

I'm  uneducated,  and  I  know  it,  but  my  talk  is  full  o'  meat 
and  gravy.  It's  nourishin'.  It's  nourished  you,  James. 

JIM. 

Yes,  sir. 

QUINNEY. 

Though  I  do  say  it  as  shouldn't,  there  ain't  my  equal  in 
the  trade. 


36  QUINNEYS' 

JIM. 
And  such  a  father! 

QUINNEY. 

Always  done  my  dooty.  That's  a  thought  to  stick  to 
one's  ribs,  hey  ? 

JIM. 
Ah! 

QUINNEY. 

Never  can  remember  the  day  when  I  couldn't  say  that. 
Square  too,  I've  been.  I  know  a  deal  more,  my  lad,  than 
you  think  for.  And  you  owe  a  lot  to  me,  James. 

JIM. 
Yes,  sir. 

QUINNEY. 

I  took  you  from  that  pincher,  Sam  Tomlin.  How  much 
do  I  pay  you  ? 

JIM. 
Three  quid  a  week — and  tips. 

QUINNEY. 
And  tips.     It'll  be  four  quid  a  week  soon. 

JIM. 
Thank  you,  sir.     [Going.] 

QUINNEY. 

[Sharply.]  You'll  be  thinking  of  gettin'  wed  one  o'  these 
fine  days  ? 

JIM. 

[Lightly]     I  have  thought  of  it. 

QUINNEY. 

[Confidentially]  What  you  want,  my  lad,  is  a  helpmate, 
a  worker  like  yourself,  strong,  healthy,  and  comely. 


QUINNEYS'  37 

JIM. 
Yes,  sir.     [Softly.]     Strong — healthy — and  comely. 

QuiNNEY. 

A  rare  'un  to  cook,  and  wash,  and  sweep. 

JIM. 
[Ironically.]     Sort  o'  general  servant  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Slily.]  One  who'll  work  hard  in  your  house,  while  you're 
.a-working  harder  still  in  mine,  see  ? 

JIM. 
[Thoughtfully.]     Yes. 

QUINNEY. 

Lucky  you  are  to  have  me  to  advise  you.  There  are 
young  men  in  your  position  who  make  fools  o'  theirselves 
t>y  falling  in  love  with  young  ladies,  useless  creatures.  It 
would  hurt  me  to  see  you  doing  that,  my  lad.  [Picks  up 
paper  on  desk.] 

JIM. 
I'm  sure  it  would.     Much  obliged,  sir. 

QUINNEY. 

[Rising.]  Not  at  all.  [He  crosses  to  the  stool.]  Never  so 
.happy  as  when  I'm  thinking  for  others.  [Stares  at  himself 
complacently  in  the  glass  above  mantelpiece^ 

[At  this  moment  JIM  perceives  the  beads,  which  POSY  has 
left  on  the  desk.  He  stares  at  them,  frowning,  and  then, 
knowing  that  QUINNEY'S  back  is  to  him,  quietly  slips 
them  into  his  pocket.  QUINNEY  sees  this  action  re- 
flected in  the  mirror.  He  sits  on  the  stool,  reading  the 
paper  as  JIM  moves  towards  the  door,  R.] 

Hold  on!     Pack  up  that  Kang  He  bottle,  too. 


38  QUINNEYS' 

JIM. 

Yes,  sir.     [JiM  goes  to  cabinet  and  takes  bottle.] 

QuiNNEY. 

Where  did  you  put  the  key  o'  that  cabinet  ?     [Points  to 
the  lacquer  cabinet.] 

JIM. 
The  key's  in  the  lock,  sir. 

QUINNEY. 

I  found  it  in  that  Kang  He  bottle.     Did  you  put  it  there 
for  safety  ? 

JIM. 
No,  sir. 

QUINNEY. 
That's  aU. 
[JiM  goes  out.] 

[As  soon  as  QUINNEY  is  alone,  he  rises  ;  his  face  betrays 
excitement  and  nervous  energy.  He  glances  at  lacquer 
cabinet.  'Then  he  unlocks  the  cabinet  and  throws  open 
both  doors.  He  examines  the  drawers  ;  and  out  of  one 
of  them  he  takes  unsealed  letter^] 
By  gum! 

[He  stares  at  the  envelope,  his  lips  twitching  with  anger. 
Then  he  opens  and  reads  the  letter  inside.    Bus.  ;  indi- 
cating surprise ,  confusion,  exasperation  and  rage.     He 
goes  to  door  and  opens  it.] 
Susan! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Off.]     What? 

QUINNEY. 
Come  here,  Susie. 


QUINNEYS'  39 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Off.]     I'm  very  busy,  Joe.     Shall  I  send  Posy  ? 

QUINNEY. 
I  want  you,  love.     Matter  o'  business. 

[He  goes  back  to  table,  sees  the  cabinet  open,  shuts  it  care- 
fully, and  comes  down  again  as  MRS.  QUINNEY  enters] 
Shut  the  door. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Obeys.  Perceiving  her  husband's  face.]  Lor',  Joe !  is  the 
house  afire  ? 

QUINNEY. 

No,  I  am.  Listen.  I  found  this  in  the  lacquer  cabinet 
a  minute  ago.  [Holds  up  the  envelope]  It's  addressed  "  To 
My  Own  Blue  Bird."  It's  in  Posy's  writin'. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Oh  dear,  oh  dear! 

QUINNEY. 

[Irritably]  Don't  make  stoopid  noises!  They  indicate 
a  mind  out  o'  whack — see  ?  Now,  sit  tight !  [She  sits.] 
I'm  going  to  read  this  letter,  written  by  your  daughter, 
ma'am 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Confused.]     My  daughter!     Ain't  she  yours  too  ? 

QUINNEY. 

I'm  beginning  to  doubt  it.  Now — [reads  aloud] — "  My 
Own  Blue  Bird  " 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Who  is  her  blue  bird  ? 


40  QUINNEYS' 

QuiNNEY. 

We'll  come  to  that  presently.  A  dam  blue  bird,  accord- 
ing to  you,  stands  for — happiness.  Pschah! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Nervously.]     Read  the  letter,  Joe.     [She  waggles  her  foot.] 

QUINNEY. 

[Working  himself  up]     I'm  a-going  to,  if  you'll  kindly 
stop   wigglin'   your   foot.     [Reads]     "  It   was   splendidly 
clever  of  you  to  think  of  using  that  stupid  old  cabinet  "• 
Stoopid  old  cabinet!     I've  refused  seven  hundred  for  it! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Go  on,  Father! 

QUINNEY. 

I'm  going  on.     I'm  going  bang  to  the  outside  edge  o'  this 

''ere.     [Quivers  with  rage  as  he  continues] "  of  using  that 

stupid  old  cabinet  as  a  pillar-box,  and  the  fact  that  we  are 
corresponding  under  the  nose  of  Father  makes  the  whole 
affair  deliriously  exciting  and  romantic.  I  should  like  to 
see  his  dear  funny  face —  '  Hear  that,  Mother?  Funny 
face!  Is  my  face  funny  ?  Is  it  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Quite  unstrung]     Not  now,  Joe.     Is  there  any  more  ? 

QUINNEY. 

Is  there  any  more,  Mrs.  Ask- Another!  D'ye  think  a 
girl  educated  at  no-expense-spared  ends  a  sentence  in  the 
middle  of  it  ?  Keep  that  foot  still,  and  I'll  finish.  [Reads] 
"  I  should  like  to  see  his  dear  funny  face  if  he  could  read 
this.  .  .  . 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

My! 


QUINNEYS'  41 

QUINNEY. 

[Savagely.]  She  shall  see  it,  by  gum !  [Continues  reading."] 
"  We've  got  to  be  most  awfully  careful,  because  if  he  caught 
me  talking  to  you,  except  about  his  dull  old  business,  he 
would  simply  chatter  with  rage.  Now — for  my  surprise. 
Father  and  Mother  are  always  fast  asleep  by  10.30."  Are 
they?  "At  n  to  the  minute,  I  shall  be  in  the  Sanctuary. 
You  be  ready  downstairs.  I'll  whistle  softly  through  the 
tube  ;  and  we'll  have  a  lovely  talk. — Your  own  POSY." 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Gasping.]     Who  is  her  Blue  Bird  ? 

QUINNEY. 

He'll  be  black-and-blue  when  I've  man-handled  him. 
It's  that  dog,  James. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Joe,  dear ;  he's  bigger  than  you ! 

QUINNEY. 

[Sarcastically.]  After  all  these  years  o'  churchgoing,  I 
thought  you  believed  that  right  was  greater  than  might. 
'As  it  all  soaked  in  ?  Did  you  mark  that  word  "  dull  " 
applied  to  a  business  like  mine  ?  Do  you  know  what  the 
contents  o'  this  room  would  fetch  at  Christopher's,  if  the 
right  people  was  bidding  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Tearfully.]     Indeed  I  don't,  Joe. 

QUINNEY. 

Nobody  knows  what  the  Quinney  Collection  would  fetch. 
The  Quinney  Collection!  S'pose  I  leave  everything  to  the 
nation,  hey  ?  Oh!  the  blooming  deceit  of  her! 

D 


42  QUINNEYS' 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
You  never  deceived  no  one,  did  you,  Joe  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Grimly.]  Susan  Quinney,  if  this  idiot  of  a  daughter  of 
yours 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Protesting.]     You've  a  half  interest  in  her,  Joe. 

QUINNEY. 

If  this  idiot  of  a  daughter  of  ours,  then — cares  more  for  my 
foreman  than  for  us  and  what  we  represent,  she  can  have 
him  and  be  damned. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Joe! 

QUINNEY. 

But  if  she  thinks  that  the  dog  wants  her  without  the 
Quinney  Collection,  why,  then,  she's  even  a  bigger  idiot  still. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Rising,  anxiously.]     What  are  you  going  to  do,  dear  ? 
[Pause]. 

QUINNEY. 

[In  a  low  voice.]  I'm  going  to  catch  'em  together — to- 
night— at  1 1 .  [He  goes  to  the  cabinet  and  carefully  replaces 
the  letter  where  he  found  it,  dosing  the  cabinet  and  locking  it.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Oh,  lor*! 

QUINNEY. 

[Coming  down  C.]  You've  got  to  stand  shoulder  to 
shoulder  with  me. 


QUINNEYS'  45 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Whimpering.]     Oh,  lor'!     Oh,  lor'! 

QUINNEY. 

Go  it.     [Crossing  to  L]     Keep  on  mumbudgetin'  like  an 
old  Poll  Parrot. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
What  will  you  say  to  'em,  Joe  ? 

QUINNEY. 
Come  you  over  here. 

[MRS.  QUINNEY  crosses  to  him.  He  places  her  in  a  chair, 
puts  a  chair  beside  her,  sits  down  in  it,  and  lays  his 
hand  upon  her  arm.] 

I'll  tell  you. 


CURTAIN    FALLS. 


ACT  II 

SCENE  :  The  same.     Curtains  drawn,  and  firelight  only. 
TIME  :    Midnight. 

When  the  Curtain  rises,  the  stage  is  almost  in  darkness  and 
quite  empty. 

MR.  and  MRS.  QUINNEY  enter  silently  R.  Both  are  quaintly 
attired.  QUINNEY  has  removed  his  ordinary  coat  and 
substituted  an  old-fashioned  flowered  dressing-gown.  He 
wears  a  smoking-cap  with  tassel,  set  slightly  on  one  side, 
which  gives  him  a  rakish  look.  He  mutters  to  himself,  and 
chuckles  as  he  leads  the  way  in.  MRS.  QUINNEY  follows 
him  resignedly.  She  also  is  wearing  what  may  be  de- 
scribed as  a  compromise  kit.  Evidently  her  hair  has  been 
arranged  for  the  night,  and  she  has  put  on  a  peignoir. 
She  looks  younger  and  prettier.  QUINNEY  stands  by  the 
door  and  lets  his  wife  pass. 

QUINNEY. 

Get  over  by  the  fire,  Mother!  [He  shuts  the  door  very 
softly,  and  looks  at  his  watch.]  Five  minutes  yet.  Sit  you 
down,  love! 

[MRS.  QUINNEY  nervously  seats  herself  on  extreme  edge  of 
stool.  QUINNEY  crosses  and  adjusts  the  screen.  All 
his  movements  are  furtive  and  quick.  He  pauses  to 

44 


QUINNEYS'  45 

listen,  with  his  head  on  one  side,  and  his  eyes  are  bright 
and  active  as  a  squirrel's.] 

There!  Couched  in  the  ambush,  as  Mr.  Shakespeare  says. 
[Turning  lights  on  above  mantelpiece^  Remember  when  me 
and  you  took  a  course  o'  the  bard  to  improve  our  powers  o' 
speech. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Yes.     [Sighing.]     We  was  young  then. 

QUINNEY. 

[Sits  on  stool  facing  fire]  We're  young  still,  dearie. 
Young  and  spry.  Full  o'  beans. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

We  made  it  up  to  marry  against  your  father's  wish,  and 
unbeknown  to  him.  Yes,  we  did. 

QUINNEY. 
What  are  you  getting  at  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

I  never  told  Mother  that  day  you  kissed  me  for  the  first 
time  behind  our  parlour  door. 

QUINNEY. 

Old  dear,  circumstances  alter  cases.  My  father  made  a 
white  nigger  o'  me,  but  I  wasn't  disobedient.  He  said  : 
"  Don't  let  me  hear  of  any  goin's  on  atween  you  and  that 
there  Susan  Biddlecombe !  "  By  gum !  He  didn't.  [Cuddles 
up  to  her]  Me  and  you  took  jolly  good  care  of  that.  Then 
he  died,  unexpected,  and  I  remember  thinking  to  myself  : 
"  I  only  hope  as  he  knows  better."  [Chuckles.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
You  did  deceive  him,  Joe. 


46  QUINNEYS' 

QuiNNEY. 

Yes,  I  did ;  but  I  give  the  old  man  a  tip-top  funeral. 
Six  mutes,  port  wine,  spice  cake  and  all.  He'd  have  pinched 
something  horrid  over  mine. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Obstinately.']     But  you  did  deceive  him. 

QUINNEY. 

And   serve  him   right!     Father   never   knew   quality. 
Quantity  was  what  he'd  go  for.    Lordy !  how  he  did  wallow 
in  job  lots  ! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Sticking  to  her  point.]  And  I  deceived  my  pore  mother. 
Used  to  wear  my  engagement  ring  at  night. 

QUINNEY. 

[Staring  at  her  in  the  soft  light,  with  a  softening  voice.]  By 
gum,  Susie,  I  remember  wishing  I  was  that  little  ring. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Joe!     [She  cuddles  up  to  him.] 

QUINNEY. 

[Reminiscently.]  I  used  to  wonder  what  you  looked  like 
when  you  was  asleep.  Great  times  them  was,  to  be  sure. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Smiling  ;  coaxingly.]  Because  of  those  times,  dear,  go  a 
bit  easy  with  these  young  people. 

QUINNEY. 

[Rising.]  You  leave  all  that  to  me.  I'll  fix  'em  to 
rights!  I'll  sweep  the  cobwebs  out  o'  their  silly  noddles. 
It's  struck  me  that  I've  bin  to  blame  in  making  our  young 
Posy  so  bloomin'  ornamental. 


QUINNEYS'  47 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

Come,  Joe,  our  daughter  didn't  get  all  her  good  looks 
from  you. 

QUINNEY. 
Handsome  is  as  handsome  does.     Ever  heard  that  before  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[With  a  heavy  sigh.]     Once  or  twice. 

[QUINNEY  goes  to  the  door.     Clock  begins  to  strike  n.] 

QUINNEY. 

[Listening^  Shush-h-h  !  Quick  !  Get  be'ind  screen. 
[He  switches  off  lights  on  mantelpiece.] 

[They  slip  behind  the  lacquer  screen  as  POSY  enters.  She 
is  wearing  a  very  becoming  dressing-gown  of  pale  blue 
silk,  her  hair  is  down  her  back  in  two  pigtails,  tied  up 
with  pale  blue  riband.  Her  feet  are  thrust  into  pale 
blue  slippers.  In  this  costume  she  looks  younger,  and, 
if  possible,  prettier.  She  switches  on  one  of  the  electrics, 
crosses  to  the  tube  and  whistles  down  it,  very  softly .] 

POSY. 

[At  the  tube.]  Yes — it's  all  right.  Daddy  fast  asleep  and 
snoring.  Come  up,  Jim,  but  take  your  shoes  off.  The  third 
stair  from  the  top  creaks  badly.  Skip  that! 

[Short  business  before  JIM  arrives.  POSY  arranges  the 
large  arm-chair  in  front  of  the  fire,  which  smoulders 
with  a  pleasant  red  glow.  POSY  jumps  on  and  off  one 
of  the  arms.  Then  she  gives  a  low  gurgle  of  laughter.] 

[JiM  enters  silently  in  his  stockinged  feet,  carrying  a  pair 
of  slippers.  He  closes  the  door  noiselessly  and  places 
the  slippers  on  the  desk.  He  is  fully  dressed.  They 
meet  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  kiss  each  other.  It 


48  QUINNEYS' 

must  be  quite  obvious  that  POSY  is  still  rather  shy  with 
her  lover.  When  he  hugs  her  too  masterfully  she  slips 
from  his  arms  with  a  low  laugh.] 

POSY. 
Please  don't. 

JIM.  €M 

[In  a  clear,  low  voice.]    You  like  it,  Posy  ;  you  know  you 
like  it,  you  little  darling. 

POSY. 
[Very  bashfully]     Yes,  I  like  it.     [Laughs] 

JIM. 

Awfully  ?     [Squeezing  her,]     Oh-ho — ! 

POSY. 
What  is  it  ? 

JIM. 

One  of  your  pins  in  my  finger.     [Shows  it — POSY  seizes 
his  finger  and  kisses  it] 

POSY. 
There!     I've  drunk  your  blood,  Jim. 

JIM. 
Oh,  you  vampire!     [Puts  on  slippers] 

[PosY  flits  over  to  fireplace  and  switches  on  mantelpiece 
lights] 

POSY. 
Now,  Jim,  sit  on  this  chair. 

JIM. 

[He  goes  to  her]     Posy,  do  you  think  you  can  stand  five 
hundred  kisses. 


QUINNEYS'  49 

POSY. 
Perhaps.     [She  goes  round  back  of  chair.]     Presently. 

[Posv  perches  herself  on  the  R.  arm  of  chair.     JIM  slips 
his  arm  round  her  waist.] 

JIM. 

[Kneeling.]  You  do  look  a  sweet.  [She  smiles.]  You 
don't  know  much  about  kissing,  darling. 

POSY. 

[Artlessly.]     No,  I  don't.     Do  you  ? 

JIM. 
[Artfully]     I'd  like  to  know  more. 

[QuiN KEY'S  face  appears^ 
Shall  I  give  you  a  butterfly  kiss  ? 

POSY. 
A  butterfly  kiss — what's  that  ? 

JIM. 

The  flicker  of  a  pair  of  eyelashes  upon  a  pretty  cheek. 
Bend  down  your  cheek.  [She  does  so.  He  flicks  his  eye- 
lashes against  it]  How  do  you  like  that  ? 

POSY. 

[Considering,  with  her  head  slightly  on  one  side.]  It's  not 
er — very 

JIM. 
Satisfying.     Posy,  you're  a  flirt,  but  you're  a  duck! 

POSY. 

Who  taught  you  that  kiss,  Jim  ? 


50  QUINNEYS' 

JIM. 

[With  a  jolly  grin.']  Answers.  I  read  an  article  on  kissing. 
Posy,  I  never  saw  you  look  so  pretty  as  you  do  to-night. 

POSY. 
Am  I  as  pretty  as  Mabel  Dredge  ? 

JIM. 

[Scornfully.]  Mabel  Dredge  ?  Of  course  you  are !  What 
on  earth  made  you  mention  her  ? 

POSY. 

[Half  laughing,  half  serious.]  Well,  Mumsie  was  saying 
only  this  morning  that  six  months  ago,  when  I  was  at 
school, she  thoughtyou  and  Mabel  might  make  a  match  of  it. 

[QuiN KEY'S  face,  just  above  the  screen,  indicates  alertness, 
as  if  POSY  had  mentioned  something  of  vital  interest 
to  himself. ] 

JIM. 
What  nonsense! 

POSY. 

[Thoughtfully.]    I  expect  Mabel  likes  you.    [She  eyes  him 
attentively,  but  he  meets  her  glance  gallantly,  love  for  her  beam- 
ing upon  his  face.] 

JIM. 
I  like  her,  which  is  lucky,  as  we  have  to  work  together. 

POSY. 

I  wish  I  worked  with  you,  Jim. 

JIM. 
[Ardently.]    I  wish  you  did. 

[QuiN KEY'S  face  has  indicated  a  certain  satisfaction  at 
this  short  talk  about  MABEL.  He  looks  very  knowing.] 


QUINNEYS'  51 

POSY. 

[Obviously  teasing  him.]  I  expect  you  flirted  with  her  a 
teeny-weeny  bit. 

JIM. 

[Tensely.']  Posy,  darling,  no  man  with  eyes  in  his  head 
would  look  at  Miss  Dredge  when  you  were  about. 

POSY. 
[Thoughtfully.]     But  I  wasn't  about  then. 

JIM. 

Don't  let's  waste  precious  time  jawing  about  Mabel 
Dredge.  [Kisses  her]  Isn't  this cosy  ? 

POSY. 

Fancy  if  Daddy  could  see  us  now  ? 

[JiM  kisses  her  again.] 

Oh!  I  do  love  romance.  I  simply  adore  the  excitement  of 
our  meeting  under  Daddy's  very  nose,  in  his  sanctuary. 
Think  of  it! 

JIM. 
[Seriously]     I'm  thinking  that  a  big  row  is  inevitable. 

POSY. 

How  like  a  man !  Big  rows  are  never  inevitable.  I  shall 
do  what  you  suggest  and  coax  Daddy.  He's  an  awful  old 
fuss-pot,  but  his  bark  is  worse  than  his  bite.  When  he  gets 
angry  he  frightens  poor  Mumsie,  but  he  makes  me  laugh 
inside. 

[QUINNEY  disappears.] 

JIM. 

Perhaps  I  can  prove  to  him  that  he  needs  me. 


52  QUINNEYS' 

POSY. 
Prove  it  ?     How  ? 

JIM. 

I'm  a  hard  worker  and  a  first-class  cabinet  maker.  I  feel 
like  tackling  Mr.  Quinney  at  once. 

POSY. 

At  once  ?  This  morning  you  wanted  to  leave  things  to 
me.  What  has  changed  you  ? 

JIM. 

That's  my  secret. 

POSY. 

[Pouting.]     I'm  awfully  curious. 

JIM. 

[Laughing.]     You  shall  know  all  about  it  in  good  time. 

POSY. 
Oh! 

JIM. 
I'm  for  action.     What's  your  little  game  ? 

POSY. 

[Softly,  and  touching  his  hair.]  The  woman's  game,  the 
waiting  game.  I  mean  to  make  a  special  study  of  Daddy. 
Why,  I  hardly  know  him.  Then  again,  Mumsie  is  on  our 
side. 

JIM. 

You  haven't  told  her  ? 

POSY. 

Of  course  not.  But  she's  romantic,  too,  and  she  loves 
me,  and  she  married  for  love  a  poor  young  man.  It  will  be 
two  to  one. 


QUINNEYS'  53 

JIM. 
As  you  say,  you  don't  know  the  one. 

POSY. 
Are  you  cross  ? 

JIM. 

I'm — impatient.  I  want  you  to  be  mine.  [His  voice 
softens]  Do  you  ever  think  of  what  it  will  be  like  when 
you  are  mine.  [Kisses  her.] 

POSY. 

[Whispering.]  Yes.  [She  rises.]  My  heart  is  beating. 
[Laughs.]  Almost  loud  enough  for  Father  to  hear.  I  feel — 
I  feel [Moves  to  end  of  stool] 

JIM. 

Yes? 

POSY. 

As  if  we  were  playing  "  Out  pounce,  Piggy !  "  [Sits  on 
stool] 

JIM. 
Out  pounce,  Piggy  ?     What's  that  ? 

POSY. 

It's  a  terrifying  game  we  girls  used  to  play  at  school. 
And  it's  played  in  the  dark.  Those  who  hide  crouch  behind 
furniture,  and  those  who  seek  must  discover  them  without 
being  caught.  The  hiders  wait  till  the  very  last  moment, 
and  then — pounce! 

JIM. 
Sounds  a  silly  game.     Come  a  bit  nearer,  Posy. 

POSY. 

I'm  frightened,  Jim.  Don't  think  me  a  horrid  flirt,  but, 
I  am — frightened.  [Gives  a  little  shiver^] 


54  QUINNEYS' 

JIM. 

Frightened  of  me  ?     [Kneeling.] 

POSY. 

[Thinking  it  out,  with  pursed-up  lips.]  It  is  not  all  you, 
dear.  I'm  frightened  at  something  greater  than  either  of 
us ;  it  is  part  you,  and  part  me,  and  part  something  else. 
It — it  pounces!  The  truth  is  ridiculous,  but  it  just  de- 
scribes what  I  feel  now. 

JIM. 

[Rising.]  I'm  going  to  kiss  this  nonsense  out  of  you, 
darling. 

QUINNEY. 

[With  head  over  the  screen]  Kissin'  the  wrong  man  is  a 
mug's  game,  my  lass. 

[The  lovers  jump  apart.] 

POSY. 
Oooooo-er!     [Runs  over  to  desk.     JIM  drops  down  L.] 

QUINNEY. 

[Striding  out  C.  from  behind  the  screen]  I  thought  it 
likely  you  might  make  a  fool  of  yourself ;  and  I  haven't 
been  disappointed.  Come  on,  Susan. 

[Mas.  QUINNEY  appears  to  his  R.,  looking  very  agitated.] 
Mother's  blushing  to  the  roots  of  her  hair  for  you.  Switch 
the  lights  on,  ole  dear ! 

[MRS.  QUINNEY  crosses  to  door,  switches  on  lights  and 
returns  above  desk.] 

POSY. 
I'm  not  a  bit  ashamed  of  myself. 


QUINNEYS'  55 

QuiNNEY. 

Sorry  to  hear  that,  my  lass.  It  fair  furs  my  tongue  to 
look  at  you.  Now  then,  like  to  take  it  sittin'  or  standin'. 
[He  rolls  back  his  sleeves^ 

POSY. 
Take  what  ? 

QUINNEY. 

The  dose  I'm  goin'  to  give  a  deceitful,  disobedient,  un- 
grateful daughter.  Sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth,  you  are. 

POSY. 

I'll  take  it  standing  beside  Jim.  [She  trips  across  to  JIM'S 
X.,  and  flings  her  arms  round  JIM'S  neck.  QUINNEY  chatters 
with  rage.] 

QUINNEY. 
You  baggage! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[J3y  desk.]     Posy!     Remember  what  you've  not  got  on. 

QUINNEY. 
This  beats  the  band.     Rank  mutiny! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

Only  Nature,  Joe.  [MRS.  QUINNEY  pulls  out  chair  from 
desk  and  sits.] 

QUINNEY. 

Hold  yer  tongue,  Mother !  A  nice  couple !  Can  you  cook, 
Miss  Independence  ? 

POSY. 

Cook  ?     Me  ?     You  know  I  can't  cook. 

QUINNEY. 
Thought  not.     Anything  of  a  hand  with  yer  needle  ? 


56  QUINNEYS' 

POSY. 

No. 

QuiNNEY. 

[To  MRS.  QUINNEY.]  Why  didn't  you  learn  her  to  use  a 
broom  ?  Can  she  wash  anything  more  useful  than  her  own 
hands,  hey  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

Your  orders,  Joe.  The  child  was  to  be  brought  up  like  a 
little  princess! 

QUINNEY. 

[Snarling.]  They  tell  me  that  our  royal  princesses  'ave 
to  learn  such  things,  willy-nilly,  because  revolutions  do  happen 
sometimes.  [Turning  savagely  to  JIM.]  Intentions  honour- 
able, Mister  Johnny-Raw  ? 

JIM. 

They  are. 

QUINNEY. 
Arranged  the  happy  day,  Edwin  ? 

JIM. 

Not  yet. 

QUINNEY. 

Ah!  Waitin',  maybe,  for  Father's  blessing — and  a  snug 
settlement. 

POSY. 

[Vehemently^  And  why  not  ?  Isn't  it  your  duty  to 
provide  for  me  ?  It's  your  fault,  not  mine,  that  I  can't 
cook,  or  sew,  or  wash.  [She  lays  her  head  upon  JIM'S 
shoulder.  MRS.  QUINNEY  nods  her  head  solemnly.] 

QUINNEY. 

[To  MRS.  QUINNEY.]  What  a  sauce!  Mother,  [moving 
to  her]  you  go  and  stand  between  'em. 


QUINNEYS'  57 

[MRS.  QUINNEY  obeys.    She  whispers  something  to  POSY.] 

[Half  sitting  on  desk.]  Now,  miss,  ain't  I  been  a  good  father 
to  you  ?  No  quibblin',  if  you  please — ain't  I  been  a  tip-top 
parent  ? 

POSY. 
I  don't  know. 

QUINNEY. 

What  do  you  say  ? 

POSY. 
I  said  I  didn't  know. 

QUINNEY. 
Well,  I'm  blest!     'Aven't  I  given  you  everything  a  girl 

wants  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Not  half,  you  haven't. 

QUINNEY. 
You  hold  your  tongue,  Mrs.  Butt-in. 

POSY. 

I  have  wanted  things  you  didn't  give  me. 

QUINNEY. 

Of  all  the  ungrateful  hussies !  Now,  you  answer  straight. 
It'd  take  a  month  o'  Sundays  to  tell  what  I've  given  you ; 
but  you  tell  me  what  I've  not  given  you. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Understanding. 

QUINNEY. 
Eh! 

E 


58  QUINNEYS' 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

It's  pride  you  feel  for  her — not  love.  You  love  old  chairs, 
faded  tapestries,  china,  lacquer  cabinets.  You  don't  love — 
persons. 

QUINNEY. 

[Grinding  his  teeth.]  What  ?  Say  that  again,  old  lass. 
I  want  it  to  soak  in. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

You  go  to  Westminster  Abbey  to  worship  the'stone  fan 
vaulting  of  the  roof! 

QUINNEY. 

That's  right.  Makes  me  feel  like  a  bird  o'  Paradise.  [To 
JIM.]  Do  you  love  persons,  too  ? 

JIM. 
I  love  one  little  person. 

QUINNEY. 
Things  worth  their  weight  in  gold  don't  interest  you,  hey  f 

JIM. 
They  interest  me,  of  course. 

QUINNEY. 

Never  entered  your  overcrowded  mind,  did  it  ?  that 
when  closing-time  comes  for  me,  my  things  '11  belong  to  my 
daughter  ? 

JIM. 

It  may  have  entered  my  mind,  but  I  didn't^fall  in  love 
with  Posy  because  she  was  your  daughter. 

QUINNEY. 

How  do  you  propose  to  support  her,  after^I've  given  you 
the  sack  ? 


QUINNEYS'  59 

JIM. 
Mr.  Tomlin  wants  to  get  me  back. 

QuiNNEY. 

Sam  Tomlin  ? 

JIM. 

Since  I  left  him  he's  tried  to  tempt  me  from  you,  many  and 
many  a  time. 

QUINNEY. 
He,  he,  he ! — the  dirty  dog ! 

JIM. 
You  pay  me  three  quid  a  week.     I'm  worth — more! 

QUINNEY. 
'Ark  to  Mister  Pride-before-the-fall ! 

JIM. 

Mr.  Tomlin  is  willing  to  give  me  five,  not  to  mention  a 
small  commission  on  sales  and  purchases. 

QUINNEY. 

Is  he  ?  I'm  ashamed  of  being  connected  with  such  a 
funny  swine.  I'm  going  to  talk  straight  to  you.  If  you 
want  that  thankless  child,  take  her — now. 

JIM. 

[Startled]     Now  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Grimly.]    Now! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

Joe!     [Crossly.]     He  can't  take  her  in  her  petticoats! 
[Pause.] 

JIM. 
Yes,  I  can. 


60  QUINNEYS' 

POSY. 

Oh,  Jim,  you  are  a  darling!  I  was  never  quite  sure  till 
this  blessed  moment. 

QuiNNEY. 

Blessed!     Oh,  my  stars! 

POSY. 

[Turning  to  her  father,  in  suppressed  excitement]  Father, 
I  can't  believe  you  mean  what  you  say. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

No,  he's  joking!  You'd  never  turn  our  child  out  of  our 
house  at  midnight  ? 

QUINNEY. 

Listen.  She's  got  to  choose  between  that  dog  and  me 
sooner  or  later — Why  not  sooner,  hey  ?  [He  turns  her  round 
to  his  R.  She  sinks  into  chair] 

POSY. 

[As  obstinate  as  her  father]  I've  promised  to  marry  Jim. 
I'm  not  afraid  of  poverty  with  Jim. 

QUINNEY. 
That'll  do.     You  leave  the  room,  you  !    At  once  ! 

POSY. 

[Going  C.  ;  excitedly]  You  said  the  house  just  now. 
I'm  as  serious  as  you  are.  Say  it  once  more.  I'm  to  choose 
between  Jim  and  you,  am  I  ? 

QUINNEY. 
By  gum !     Yes — yes — yes  !  ! 

POSY. 

[In  a  soft,  sweet  voice]  And  you — [turns  to  JIM] — you 
want  me,  Jim  ? 


QUINNEYS'  61 

JIM. 
Of  course  I  want  you. 

POSY. 

[Tremulously^]    Father — I — I [Pulls  herself  together. ] 

Won't  you  give  us  a  little  time  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Chattering  with  rage.]  Time  ?  It's  a  good  smackin'  you 
need!  Go  to  bed!  At — once! 

[For  an  instant  father  and  daughter  stare  into  each  other's 
faces.  Neither  flinches.  Then,  after  glancing  round 
slowly,  POSY  moves  with  dignity  to  the  door  and  pauses^ 

POSY. 

[Opens  door.]  Father,  would  you  turn  me  out  of  your 
house  if  I  refuse  to  give  up  the  man  I  love  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Inexorably^]     He's  no  class.     [JiM  stands  L.] 

[PosY  looks  steadily  at  him,  sighs,  and  goes  out  silently, 
softly  closing  the  door  behind  her.  JIM  turns  away, 
and  sits  on  stool] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Rising  ;  trembling]     If  you  do  this  cruel  thing,  Joe 

QUINNEY. 

That's  right !  [Moving  down  C.  a  little^]  Hit  a  man  when 
he's  down. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

Down  ?  It's  up  you  are,  Joe  Quinney,  tens  o'  thousands 
o'  feet  above  all  common  sense  and  common  decency.  It 
is  things — things — THINGS  you  care  for.  And  our  Posy — 
my  Posy,  bless  her !  is  right  to  prefer  persons  to  the  false  gods 
which  you've  set  up  and  worshipped — yes,  worshipped  / 


62  QUINNEYS' 

There's  only  one  person  in  all  the  wide  world  you  care  for, 
and  that's  yourself — yourself!  [She  flings  herself  on  to  a 
chair  by  table,  and  buries  her  head  in  a  paroxysm  of  grief  and 
distress.} 

QuiNNEY. 

[Confounded}     Susan !     Susan ! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Sobbing.]     Oh!     Oh! 

QUINNEY. 

[Going  to  her  ;  in  a  different  voice}  Stop  it,  old  dear ! 
stop  it!  I  do  care  about  you,  Susie  ;  I  do,  indeed.  Worked 
for  you,  I  have,  sweated  blood  for  you.  Made  a  lady  of  yer, 
too.  Couldn't  worry  along  without  you.  And  you  know 
it.  Darby  and  Joan !  What  ?  Oh,  bung  it !  Gawd  bless 
my  soul !  [shakes  her  shoulders}  you'll  melt  away  like,  if  you 
ain't  careful.  Sue,  s'elp  me,  you  come  first. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Lifting  her  head  with  disconcerting  suddenness}  Do  I  ? 
Sure  ?  [She  speaks  with  poignant  intensity} 

QUINNEY. 

[Taking  her  hand  and  patting  it}  Why,  of  course!  Nice 
old  cup  o'  tea,  you  are,  to  doubt  it. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Sharply}     You'd  miss  me,  if  I  went,  Joe  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[With  feeling}  Miss  you  ?  Haven't  I  said  time  and 
time  again  that  I  hoped  as  how  I'd  go  first  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Doubtfully}     You  have  said  so,  Joe,  but 


QUINNEYS'  63 

QUINNEY. 

Meant  it  too.     Man  o'  my  word,  I  am ! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Rising.]  Man  o' your  word !  And  you  threaten  to  turn 
your  own  flesh  and  blood  into  the  street  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Obstinately.]  Young  Posy  needn't  leave  us,  unless  she 
wants  to.  More — I'll  keep  on  Jim.  More,  too — I'll  sweeten 
his  salary  to  please  you.  But  our  Posy  ain't  for  the  likes 
of  him.  He's  no  class,  I  say. 

JIM. 

[Coming  forward.]  Perhaps  not!  Were  you  for  your 
wife  ? 

QUINNEY. 
Eh !  what's  that  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Rising.]     I've  something  to  say 

QUINNEY. 

Well,  say  it,  love! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Decisively.]  If  Posy  leaves  your  house,  I  go  with  her. 
If  she  never  returns  to  it,  I  shall  never  return  to  it.  Never! 

QUINNEY. 
The  pore  lass  has  gone  potty! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

I  was  happy  with  you  when  we  lived  in  a  cottage  in  York. 
I've  been  very  unhappy  in  this  big  house,  filled  with  things 
which  have  come  between  us. 


64  QUINNEYS' 

QUINNEY. 

Unhappy ! — here !  Lord  love  you !  you'll  complain  of  the 
Better  Land  when  you  get  there.  [ Turns  to  JIM.]  Now, 
my  lad 

JIM. 
I've  been  courting  Posy  for  two  months. 

QUINNEY. 

You'll  have  the  rest  of  your  life  to  regret  it. 

JIM. 
Can  I  speak  to  you  alone,  sir  ? 

QUINNEY. 
Alone !     You  hear  that,  Susie  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Yes,  I  hear  him.     I'll  go  to  Posy.     [Goes  R.] 

QUINNEY. 

[Derisively.]  Looks,  by  gum,  as  if  he  wasn't  in  such  a 
hurry  to  take  the  young  lady  in  her  petticoat  !  I'll 
see  you  again,  Susan,  after  I've  downed  this  puppy  and 
rubbed  his  nose  in  his  own  foolishness  and  insolence. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Going  to  door  and  pausing.]  If  I  might  pass  the  remark, 
Joe,  I  should  say  :  Don't  you  get  too  excited,  because  you 
may  overstrain  yourself.  [She  goes  out  and  slightly  slams 
the  door.] 

QUINNEY. 

[Mopping  his  forehead  and  speaking  rather  to  himself  than 
to  JIM.]  When  I  think  of  what  I've  done  for  them  two 
thankless  females!  [Sits.] 


QUINNEYS'  65 

JIM. 
[As  QUINNEY  sits  at  his  desk.]     What  have  you  done  ? 

QuiNNEY. 

Slaved  for  'em  for  twenty  years ;  worked  myself  to  bone  ! 
Thanks  to  me  they've  been  able  to  take  it  easy  all  the  time. 
Enough  o'  that !  What  you  got  to  say  to  me  alone  ? 

JIM. 
What  have  you  against  me,  Mr.  Quinney  ? 

QUINNEY. 

You're  after  my  things.     I  know  it. 

A 

JIM. 
[Earnestly^     I  am  not. 

QUINNEY. 
[Curtly.]     Have  you  ought  else  to  say  ? 

JIM. 
[Respectfully.]     Yes  ;   I  can  do  you  a  service. 

QUINNEY. 
A  service  ?     You  ? 

JIM. 
Those  chairs 

QUINNEY. 

Chairs  ?     What  chairs  ? 

JIM. 

The  chairs  you  bought  at  Christopher's  for  nine  hundred 
guineas,  and  sold  to-day  for  eleven. 

QUINNEY. 
[Astounded]     What  about  'em  ? 


66  QUINNEYS' 

JIM. 
[Quietly.]     They're  not  genuine. 

QuiNNEY. 

[Staring  and  gasping.]     What  do  you  say  ? 

JIM. 
Beats  me  how  you  were  taken  in. 

QUINNEY. 

[Fuming.]  Taken  in  ?  You  have  the  sauce  to  tell  me 
that  your  judgment  is  better  than  mine. 

JIM. 

About  these  chairs — yes. 

QUINNEY. 
[After  a  pause]     I  told  you  to  case  'em. 

JIM. 
They  are  cased — ah1  but  one. 

QUINNEY. 
Fetch  it!     Quick! 

[JiM  goes.  QUINNEY  takes  a  turn  up  and  down  the  room. 
Obviously  he  is  much  perturbed.  JIM  comes  back  with 
the  chair,  which  he  places  below  desk,  R.  QUINNEY 
turns  up  light  on  desk,  polishes  a  magnifying  glass,  and 
sits.  He  stares  at  the  chair  first] 

[Growling.]     It's  all  right — a  beauty! 

JIM. 

It's  half  and  half.  Some  dealer  was  lucky  enough  to  get 
hold  of  four  genuine  chairs,  much  battered.  He  had  the 
four  turned  into  eight,  using  old  mahogany. 


QUINNEYS'  67 

QUINNEY. 

[Obstinately.]     Don't  believe  it! 

JIM. 

[Lifting  chair.]  You  examine  that  leg  which  is  Chippen- 
dale's and  then  this. 

[Business.     QUINNEY  makes  a  careful  examination.] 

QUINNEY. 

[Looking  at  JIM.]  If  this  chair  has  been  tampered  with, 
it's  the  best  bit  of  work  I've  ever  seen  in  my  life. 

JIM. 
Look  at  that  ribbon  work. 

QUINNEY. 

[Rising.]  By  gum!  You're  right.  It's  a  fake.  And  I 
loathe  fakes.  [Kicks  the  chair.]  Take  it  away. 

JIM. 
Yes,  sir.     Shall  I  come  back  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Between  his  teeth]  No.  I'm  on  to  you,  young  feller. 
You've  made  up  your  mind  to  use  this  precious  information. 
You're  trying  to  blackmail  me. 

JIM. 
[Indignantly]     I  am  not. 

QUINNEY. 

[With  a  sneer,  very  knowingly]  Oh  yes,  you  are.  Not 
another  word.  Scoot!  [He  points  authoritatively  to  the 
door] 

JIM. 

[Slightly  dazed]     Without  settling  anything  ? 


68  QUINNEYS' 

QUINNEY. 

Don't  worry!     You  shall  be  settled  to-morrow. 

JIM. 
[Picking  up  the  chair.]     Good-night,  sir. 

[  JIM  goes  out,  closing  the  door.] 

QUINNEY. 
Good  night.     Pschah ! 

[QUINNEY  goes  behind  the  lacquer  screen,  where  there  is  a 
small  cupboard,  and  comes  back  carrying  a  cut-glass 
decanter,  half  full  of  sherry,  and  sherry  glasses.  He 
places  these  upon  the  table,  muttering  to  himself.  Then 
he  fills  a  glass  with  sherry,  and  drinks  it,  after  holding 
it  up  to  the  light.  He  smacks  his  lips  approvingly. 
He  then  stares  fixedly  at  one  of  the  objects  on  his  desk, 
holding  it  first  near  to  his  eyes,  and  then  far  away, 
frowning  and  growling.  The  growling  deepens  in  tone, 
as,  obviously,  the  test  of  eyesight  convinces  him  that  he 
cannot  see  as  clearly  as  he  did.] 

[C.]     Rotten,  rotten! 

[He  hesitates,  thinking  hard,  indicating  by  his  expression 
great  mental  distress  and  exasperation.  He  picks  up 
photo  of  POSY.] 

[Savagely^     Baggage!     [Slams  down  photo] 

[He  walks  to  the  door,  leading  to  the  corridor,  and  listens. 
Then  he  opens  it,  stands  on  the  threshold,  and  calls] 

Susan!     Susan!     Come  you  down! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Upstairs]     Coming! 

[QUINNEY  returns  to  his  desk  and  sits,  but  his  expression 
changes  when  MRS.  QUINNEY  enters,  dressed  to  go  out, 


QUINNEYS'  69 

carrying  a  small  satchel.     He  stares  at  her  as  she  stands 
upon  the  threshold] 

QuiNNEY. 

What's  the  meaning  of  this  'ere  ? 

[MRS.  QUINNEY  shrugs  her  shoulders  and  lifts  her  eye- 
brows^] 

Are  you  crazy  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Cheerfully]     No.     Posy  will  be  ready  in  a  minute.     [She 
approaches.] 

QUINNEY. 

What  for  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Calmly.]     To  leave  your  house.     She's  a  girl  of  spirit. 
I  don't  blame  her. 

QUINNEY. 

Don't  you  ?     [Rises.]     Sit  down  a  moment.     [Pours  out 
sherry.]     Have  a  glass  of  sherry  ? 

[She  shakes  her  head] 
Are  you  bluffing  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[In  deadly  earnest]     No. 

QUINNEY. 

[After  tossing  off  his  glass]     Are  you  thinkin'  o'  leavin' 
yer  husband  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[In  the  same  obstinate,  monotonous  voice]     I'm  leaving  a 
crool,  unnatural  father. 


yo  QUINNEYS' 

[QuiNNEY  seizes  the  empty  glass  and  hurls  it  into  the 

fireplace] 
Do  that  to  her  dear  heart,  you  would ! 

[For  answer,  he  picks  up  another  glass  and  hurls  that  into 
the  fireplace] 

Another  two  shillings  gone! 

QUINNEY. 
A  sovereign !     Old  Bristol  glass !     Lovely  stuff ! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
There  you  go  again ! 

QUINNEY. 
Ho!     You  think  I  care  about  money  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
I  know  you  do. 

QUINNEY. 

[Bringing  forward  stool]  Who  doesn't  ?  You  say  I 
worship  things  ?  [She  nods]  Well,  things  have  been  a 
means  to  an  end  with  me.  Never  mind  that !  If  you  don't 
know  your  luck  in  having  me  for  a  husband  it's  too  late  to 
learn  you  now.  I  want  to  talk  about  something  else.  [Sz'te.] 
Take  off  your  hat,  you  old  spoof-sticks,  and  sit  down. 
[Moves  chair] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Compressing  her  lips]     No. 

QUINNEY. 

Have  it  your  own  way.  [Impressively]  This  'ere  James 
is  a  bad  lad.  He's  threatening  me. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Sitting  quickly]     Threatening  you  ?     What  about  ? 


QUINNEYS'  71 

QUINNEY. 

Never  you  mind!     He  isn't  going  to  down  me  that  way. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
The  pore  young  fellow  is  fighting  for  our  Posy. 

QUINNEY. 

He's  fightin' — and  hittin'  below  the  belt,  too — for  things, 
things!     These  things.     [Points.] 

[Enter  POSY,  R.  •  She  has  put  on  a  long  coat.  She  wears 
a  becoming  hat  and  gloves.  She  also  carries  a  small 
satchel,  enough  to  hold  night-gear '.] 

POSY. 
I'm  ready,  Mumsie. 

[As  she  speaks  QUINNEY  rises,  glaring  at  her.] 

QUINNEY. 
[Angrily]     More  bluff!    hey?     Come  off  it! 

POSY. 
We  are  not  bluffing,  Father. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Far  from  it. 

QUINNEY. 

Ho!     Goin'  to  take  the  road  at  midnight.     May  I  ask 
where  you  propose  to  go  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
To  my  sister,  Alice  Tomlin. 

QUINNEY. 
Going  to  wake  that  pore  soul  up  in  the^middle  o'  the  night? 


72  QUINNEYS' 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

She's  a  woman;  she'll  understand.  [Takes  POSY'S  hand.] 
You'd  better  give  in,  Joe.  [Rises.] 

QUINNEY. 

[Ironically]  Do  I  look  like  it  ?  Look  ye  here,  you  two — 
you  think  you've  a  strangle  hold  on  me.  So  does  James. 
But  the  whole  lot  of  you  is  bluffing,  and  I'm  not  to  be  flim- 
flammed  that  way.  If  you've  made  up  your  mind  to  leave 
my  house  in  the  middle  o'  the  night,  unless  I  give  in,  why, 
leave  it. 

[Obviously  he  still  believes  that  the  two  women  are  bluffing. 
'They  stare  at  each  other  in  silence^ 

POSY. 
Come,  Mumsie. 

[She  goes  out.  MRS.  QUINNEY  remains  for  a  moment  ; 
she  makes  an  imploring  gesture  ;  her  voice  quavers^] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
You  won't  give  in  ? 

QUINNEY. 

Never ! 

[MRS.  QUINNEY  follows  out  POSY  ;  she  leaves  the  door 
wide  open.  The  steps  of  the  two  ladies  are  plainly 
heard  descending  the  parquet  stairs.  QUINNEY  moves 
nearer  to  the  door.  His  expression  indicates  that  he  is 
still  incredulous.  The  sound  of  bolts  being  shot  back 
will  be  audible  to  the  audience.  QUINNEY'S  face  grows 
serious.  Then  the  front  door  slams.  QUINNEY  closes 
the  sanctuary  door  and  returns  to  his  desk.  Obviously 
he  is  confounded.  He  picks  up  the  decanter  with  the 
intention  of  putting  it  away,  and  is  crossing  to  the 


QUINNEYS'  73 

cupboard,  when  he  pauses,  listening  intently.  Noise- 
lessly he  puts  down  the  decanter,  and  steals  on  tip-toe 
to  the  door,  which  he  opens  suddenly.  MABEL  DREDGE 
almost  tumbles  in.  She  is  wearing  a  long  coat  put  on 
over  her  nightgown.  Her  face  is  very  pale.] 

MABEL. 
[Gasping.]     You,  Mr.  Quinney! 

QuiNNEY. 

Who  did  you  expect  to  find  in  my  room  ?     The  Man  in 
the  Moon  ?     What  have  you  been  doin'  outside  there  ? 

MABEL. 

Indeed,  indeed,   I   meant  no  harm,   sir.     I   was  badly 
frightened.    I  woke  up  suddenly;  I  heard  a  noise.    I — I 

QUINNEY. 

[In  a  kinder  tone.]     Teh!     Teh!     Sit  down.     You  are 
upset,  and  no  mistake! 

[MABEL  sinks  on  to  the  stool.     QUINNEY  fetches  a  glass 
of  wine] 

Sup  you  that,  my  lass !     It's  sherry  wine.     Tremblin'  like 
a  bloomin'  jelly,  you  are! 

MABEL. 
[Drinking  the  wine.]     Thank  you,  thank  you ! 

QUINNEY. 
[Behind  her]     Tell  us  all  about  it. 

MABEL. 

I'm  a  very  light  sleeper,  sir ;    and  lately  I've  not  been 
sleeping  as  well  as  usual. 

QUINNEY. 

Why  not  ? 
F 


74  QUINNEYS' 

MABEL. 
[Nervously.]     1  simply — haven't. 

QuiNNEY. 

Nothing  to  be  scared  about  now.     You  heard  noises,  hey  ? 

MABEL. 

[Simply.]  I  thought  that  burglars  might  have  broken 
into  the  house.  [QUINNEY  nods.]  James  sleeps  in  the 

basement,  and [QUINNEY  nods  again.]     If  they  got  in 

they'd  murder  James  first,  wouldn't  they  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Forgetting  himself.]  I  hope  they  would.  I  mean,  my 
dear,  I'd  sooner  'twas  him  than  me.  [Alertly.]  And  so, 
thinkin'  that  James  might  be  welterin'  in  his  gore,  you 
slipped  down  to  see  ? 

MABEL. 

Ye-es.  [She  avoids  QUINNEY'S  keen  glance,  and  fidgets  a 
little  with  her  hands.] 

QUINNEY. 

Rare  plucked  'un  you  are,  I  do  declare.  James  ought  to 
feel  honoured.  Fine  feller,  James,  isn't  he  ? 

MABEL. 

[Constrained.]  Ye-es.  [Rising]  I'll  go  back  to  bed 
now,  Mr.  Quinney. 

QUINNEY. 

No  hurry.  [Gently  pressing  her  to  sit.]  You  ain't  fit  to 
walk  up  two  flights  o'  stairs  yet.  Tell  me,  my  lass — when 
you  woke  up  and  heard  voices  what  did  you  do  ?  [He  sits.] 

MABEL. 
I  got  up. 


QUINNEYS'  75 

QuiNNEY. 

Yes. 

MABEL. 
And  went  on  to  the  landing 

[QUINNEY  nods,  never  taking  his  sharp  eyes  from  her  face.~\ 
Then  I  went  to  Miss  Posy's  room,  which  is  next  mine. 

QUINNEY. 

[More  alert  than  ever.]     Ho ! 

MABEL. 
I  tapped  at  her  door,  although  it  was  not  quite  shut. 

QUINNEY. 

[Encouragingly.]     Very  proper. 

MABEL. 
I  ventured  to  go  in  because  a  light  was  burning. 

QUINNEY. 

Light  left  burning  ?  Just  like  her!  [Turns  out  lamp  on 
desk.]  You  ventured  to  go  in,  hey  ?  And  she  wasn't  there  ? 

MABEL. 
She  wasn't  there. 

QUINNEY. 

[Mellifluously.]  So  you  just  slipped  downstairs  to  see 
where  she  was — um  ? 

MABEL. 

[With  unmistakable  defiance^  Was  there  any  harm  in 
that  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Genially.]  Not  a  bit.  Natural  curiosity.  You  slipped 
downstairs,  saw  a  light  under  that  door,  and  took  for  granted 
that  Posy  was  in  here  ? 


76  QUINNEYS' 

MABEL. 
Ye-es. 

QuiNNEY. 

[Leaning  forward  and  lifting  a  menacing  forefinger."]  Now, 
my  lass,  tell  me  this  :  why  were  you  so  flabbergasted  at 
seeing  me  ? 

MABEL. 
[Dominated  ;  hesitating.]     I — I  didn't  expect  to  see  you. 

QUINNEY. 

Just  so.  Nought  like  the  truth.  Who  did  you  expect 
to  find  in  this  room,  at  this  time  o'  night,  with  my  daughter  ? 

MABEL. 
[Falteringly.]     Nobody. 

QUINNEY. 

[Judicially.]  My  lass,  that's  a  fib.  [She  starts]  Keep 
your  hair  on!  You  expected  to  find  Posy,  because  she 
wasn't  in  her  room.  But  you  didn't  expect  to  find  her 
-alone,  hey  ? 

MABEL. 
[Wincing.]     I — don't — know  what  I  expected. 

QUINNEY. 

Yes,  you  do.  You  expected  to  find  James  here.  [Slight 
pause.]  Good!  You  don't  deny  it  ? 

MABEL. 

[Breaking down]   I — I Forgive  me,  sir!    I  couldn't 

Jhelp  it.     I — I  was  mad,  but  James — James [Sobs] 


QUINNEYS'  77 

QuiNNEY. 

[Kindly,  when  she  recovers  her  self. ~\  Come,  come  ;  I  won't 
be  hard  on  you,  if  you're  frank  with  me.  I  want  to  be  your 
friend.  I'm  a  rare  guesser,  I  am — always  was.  And  I've 
been  young  myself.  Just  atween  ourselves — you  like  that 
fine  young  feller  ? 

MABEL. 

[Dabbing  at  her  eyes.]     I  can't  help  it. 

QUINNEY. 

Teh  !  tch  !  Nothing  to  cry  about.  And  James  likes 
you,  I'll  be  bound. 

MABEL. 
[Mournfully.]     He  did  like  me. 

QUINNEY. 

[Soothingly]     And  you've  been  a  bit  jealous  of  my  Posy  ? 

MABEL. 
Ye-es. 

QUINNEY. 

Good!  Everything  that's  happened  to-night  can  be 
easily  explained.  [Rises.  Puts  desk  chair  straight]  Mrs. 
Quinney  has  gone  to  Mrs.  Tomlin  in  the  Fulham  Road,  and 
taken  Posy  with  her. 

MABEL. 
[Contritely]     I've  been  a  fool,  sir.     Forgive  me.     [Rises.] 

QUINNEY. 

That's  all  right.  [Putting  stool  back]  Come  here,  my 
lass. 

[She  turns  and  approaches  him  obediently  ;  he  takes  her 
left  hand  and  looks  at  it.     When  he  speaks,  his  voice  is 
full  of  kindness] 
You  said  just  now  that  James  used  to  like  you. 


78  QUINNEYS' 

MABEL. 
[Almost  inaudibly.]     Yes. 

QuiNNEY. 

Is  that  why  you  have  not  been  sleeping  sound  o'  nights  ? 

MABEL. 
I  have  been  very  unhappy. 

QUINNEY. 
[Intensely.]     Has  ought  passed  between  you  and  James  ? 

[She  gazes  at  him  entreatingly,  unable  to  speak.  She 
sighs.  She  opens  her  mouth  to  speak  and  doses  it, 
turning  away  her  head.  QUINNEY  nods.  When  he 
speaks,  his  voice  is  low  and  full  of  feeling.] 

See!  I'm  going  to  tell  you  something.  [She  nods,  intelli- 
gently] I've  been  through  Hell  to-night.  You  can  help 
me.  [Takes  her  hand.]  This  is  a  nice,  capable  little  hand. 
Would  you  like  James  to  put  a  wedding  ring  on  ? 

MABEL. 
[With  constraint.]     Yes. 

QUINNEY. 

You've  been  lying  awake  o'  nights,  hopin'  that  he  would, 
may  be  ? 

MABEL. 
[With  a  sigh.]     That  I  have. 

QUINNEY. 
Why  has  James  backed  off  ? 

MABEL. 
[Intensely]     Because  he's  ambitious,  and  I'm  poor. 


QUINNEYS'  79 

QuiNNEY. 

I  thought  so !     Dessay  he  made  you  think  that  he  would 
marry  you  ? 

MABEL. 
[Furtively.]     Yes  ;  he  did,  he  did! 

QUINNEY. 

Good!     Now,  you  do  just  what  I  tell  you.     Go  upstairs 
and  put  your  things  on. 

MABEL. 
[Startled.]     Whatever  for  ? 

QUINNEY. 

No  back  chat!     Do  as  I  tell  you.     It  will  pay  you,  my 
lass,  to  obey  me. 

MABEL. 
[With  decision^     All  right!     I  will. 

[She  goes.     QUINNEY  stands  C.,  chuckling  to  himself^] 

QUINNEY. 

We'll  take  a  trip,  you  and  I,  down  the  Fulham  Road. 
I'll  learn  that  dog  James.     [Laughs.]     By  gum! 

CURTAIN    FALLS 


ACT  III 

SCENE  :    Tomlin's  dining-room,  dimly  lighted. 
TIME  :  Half  an  hour  later. 

Curtain  discloses  Tomlin  half  asleep  in  an  arm-chair.  He  is 
a  short,  pudgy,  clean-shaven  man.  The  dining-room  has 
a  mid-Victorian  air  and  appearance.  Upon  the  red, 
flock  papered  walls  hang  pictures  heavily  framed.  Win- 
dows, with  green  curtains,  are  R.  Between  them  a  bronze 
female  statue  on  a  pedestal.  Door,  L.C.,  leads  to  passage 
and  front  door.  Fireplace,  L.  Arm-chairs  on  each  side 
of  hearth-rug.  To  the  left  of  door  is  a  dinner  waggon  with 
"  Tantalus "  case.  To  the  right  of  door  is  a  heavy 
mahogany  sideboard,  garnished  by  a  rococo  silver  salver 
and  two  candelabra.  The  big  dining-room  table  is  of 
mahogany,  with  three  chairs  on  each  side  and  chairs  at 
each  end.  The  right  half  of  the  table  is  spread  with  a 
white  cloth  upon  which  are  the  remains  of  a  solid  supper, 
a  ham  in  cut,  cheese,  butter,  bread,  cruets,  etc.  Upon  the 
left  half  of  the  table  is  a  tray  with  decanter  of  port  wine 
and  glasses,  and  box  of  cigarettes.  A  bell  is  heard,  and  a 
knock  at  the  door.  TOMLIN  sits  up.  Another  knock  is 
heard.  TOMLIN  looks  at  his  watch  and  rises,  yawning. 
He  switches  on  the  light  near  the  door  and  goes  out, 
leaving  the  door  open.  Bell  again. 
80 


QUINNEYS'  8r 

TOMLIN. 

[Off.]     Who  is  it  ?     What  is  it  ?     Who's  there  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[O//.]     You  let  me  in,  Sam  Tomlin. 

TOMLIN. 

[Off.]     Susan  ?     Why  what  the ?     Wait  a  minute!' 

Damn  the  chain!     [Rattle  of  chain.]     There!     Well,  a  nice 
time  o'  night  to Come  in!     Go  quietly! 

[MRS.   QUINNEY  enters,  followed  by  TOMLIN.      POSY 
follows  with  JIM.     He  remains  up  stage,  R.  of  door.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[C.,  at  head  of  table.]     You  may  well  wonder,  Sam  Tomlin. 

TOMLIN. 

[Testily.]     Sit  down,   Susan.     [Moving  L.  of  arm-chair 
and  going  round  it  to  C.  of  fireplace^]     The  wife's  upstairs. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Excitedly,  undoing  her  bonnet  strings^     I've  come  to  my 
own  sister.     You  ask  her  to  step  down. 

POSY. 

Is  that  necessary,  Mummy  ? 

TOMLIN. 
What's  up  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

Posy  and  me  have  been  turned  out.     [Sits  in  chair  at  head 
of  table,  L.] 

TOMLIN. 
[Confounded.]     Turned  out  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Out  of  my  house  at  midnight.     {Bursts  into  tears.] 


$2  QUINNEYS' 

POSY. 

[Runs  across  to  her,  kissing  her]     Cheer  up,  Mother!     I'll 

*     explain.     [To  TOMLIN.]     I  love  Jim,  and  he  loves  me.     [JiM 

nods]     Father  found  it  out.     He  invited  me  to  choose 

between  Jim  and  himself.     And  I  took — Jim.     [She  goes 

to  JIM.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

And  I  told  Joe  that  he  must  choose  between  his  sticks  and 
stones  and  me.     And  he  took  his — [sobs] — sticks  and  stones. 

TOMLIN. 
Well,  I'm  damned!     [In  front  of  fire.] 

JIM. 
[Respectfully.]     Mr.  Tomlin 

TOMLIN. 
Eh? 

JIM. 

If  Mrs.  Quinney  and  Posy  might  go  to  bed  we  could  have 
a  talk. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Rises  and  crosses  to  TOMLIN.]     Take  me  to  Alice.     You 
ain't  going  to  refuse  me  shelter  ? 

TOMLIN. 

Teh!  tch!     Of  course  not.     Come  up  with  me.     I'll  help 
yer. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Walking  up]     I  never  felt  so  flustered  in  all  my  life. 
[She  goes  out  with  TOMLIN.     POSY  is  following  her.] 

JIM. 
Posy? 

POSY. 

[Turning]     Yes  ?     Jim,  dear,  Pm  flustered. 


QUINNEYS'  83 

JIM. 
You  leave  everything  to  me. 

POSY. 

[Decidedly,]     Uncle  will  side  with  Father. 

JIM. 

[Smiling.']     I  don't  think  so.     Now,  do  as  I  advise;     Nip 
up  after  your  mother. 

POSY. 
[Curiously.]     I  want  to  hear  what  you  say  to  Uncle  Sam. 

JIM. 
You  shall — later. 

[She  moves  from  him,  regarding  him  intently,  slightly 
pouting.  JIM  lights  a  cigarette  from  box  in  tray.] 

POSY. 

Whatever  are  you  doing  ? 

JIM. 
Soothing  my  nerves. 

POSY. 
Uncle  won't  like  it,  Jim.     Isn't  it  rather  cheeky  ? 

JIM. 

[With  feeling]     Posy  darling.     You  trust  me !     Give  me 
one  more  kiss,  you  sweet  thing,  and  now  pop  off! 

[He  approaches  her,  kisses  her,  and  leads  her  to  the  door. 
She  goes.  JIM  returns  to  the  2nd  chair,  centre  of  the 
stage.  He  is  blowing  some  circles  of  smoke,  when 
TOMLIN  fusses  in] 

TOMLIN. 

[Staring  at  the  young  man]     Hullo!     Making  yourself  at 
home,  eh  ? 


84  QUINNEYS' 

JIM. 
[Coolly.]     Why  not  ?     [He  sits] 

TOMLIN. 

You've  a  nerve! 

JIM. 
I  hope  so.     I  need  it. 

[TOMLIN  -pours  himself  out  a  glass  of  port.     JIM,  with  a. 
smile,  takes  it  up] 

JIM. 
Thanks! 

TOMLIN. 

[Amazed]     Oh!     What!     Don't    mind    me!     Well — go 
ahead! 

JIM. 

I'll  give  you  the  facts  in  tabloid  form.     I'm  going  to 
marry  Posy  Quinney. 

TOMLIN. 

[Derisively]     Anything  else  to  tell  me.     [Moving  away 
to  his  arm-chair] 

JIM. 
Yes.     [Calmly]     I  identified  some  chairs  to-day. 

TOMLIN. 

[Blusterously ]     What  chairs  ?     [Arrested] 

JIM. 

The  chairs  bought  at  Christopher's  by  Mr.  Quinney  for 
nine  hundred  guineas. 

TOMLIN. 

What  about  'em  ?     [Coming  back]     I  sent  a  customer  to 
Mr.  Quinney  to  buy  those  chairs. 

JIM. 
Smart  work!     Mr.  Hunsaker  bought  'em. 


QUINNEYS'  85 

TOMLIN. 

Glad  to  hear  it — well  ? 

JIM. 

[Slowly.']  When  I  was  working  for  you,  Mr.  Tomlin, 
those  chairs  passed  through  your  hands. 

TOMLIN. 
[Quickly.]     You've  told  Quinney  that  ? 

JIM. 

Not  yet.     [Smiling.] 

[TOMLIN  mops  his  forehead,  and  sits  at  L.  head  of  tabled] 

You  know,  sir,  and  /  know  that  those  chairs  are  not  genuine 
specimens,  but  they  were  sold  as  such  at  Christopher's. 

TOMLIN. 
Quinney  bought  'em  as  such  ? 

JIM. 

He  did.  [TOMLIN  chuckles^]  His  eyesight  is  failing,  and 
he  hates  to  wear  specs. 

TOMLIN. 
[Roughly^     What's  this  got  to  do  with  me  ? 

JIM. 

[Sweetly^     Nothing,  unless [Drinks.] 

TOMLIN. 
[Hoarsely.]     Unless ?     [He  drinks.] 

JIM. 

[Slowly.]  Unless  it  could  be  proved  that  you  put  those 
chairs  up  at  Christopher's  under  an  assumed  name.  That 
•would  be  awkward,  wouldn't  it  ? 

TOMLIN. 
[Choking.]     You're  a  very  clever  young  feller,  ain't  you  ? 


86  QUINNEYS' 

JIM. 
My  eyesight  is  not  failing. 

TOMLIN. 
[Sullenly.]     Posy  might  do  worse. 

JIM. 
[Derisively.]     Oh,  thank  you,  Mr.  Tomlin. 

TOMLIN. 
I  suppose  the  chairs  are  going  to  America. 

JIM. 
I  cased  them  this  afternoon,  but 

TOMLIN. 
Ah! 

JIM. 
I  left  one  out  to  show  to  Mr.  Quinney. 

TOMLIN. 
And  you've  shown  it  ? 

JIM. 

I  have.  He  knows  by  now  that  he's  been  badly  had  by 
some  one. 

TOMLIN. 
You  take  my  tip,  young  man.     This  ain't  your  business. 

JIM. 
You  advise  me  to  become  a  party  to  a  fraud  ? 

TOMLIN. 
I  say  it  ain't  your  business. 

JIM. 

[Quietly.]  I  am  going  to  be  quite  frank  with  you,  Mr. 
Tomlin.  I  left  your  employment  for  two  reasons.  You 
underpaid  me,  and  your  methods  of  doing  business  were  not 
quite  straight. 


QUINNEYS'  87 

TOMLIN. 

How  dare  you  ?     [Rising.] 

JIM. 

Your  methods  of  doing  business  were  not  quite  straight. 
I  went  to  Mr.  Quinney  because  I  heard  that  he  was  the  most 
honest  dealer  in  London. 

[TOMLIN  sinks  into  his  chair.] 

TOMLIN. 
What  a  tale! 

JIM. 

A  true  one,  I  believe,  but  this  will  test  him.  He  could 
afford  to  lose  the  money,  but  his  reputation  as  an  expert  is 
at  stake. 

TOMLIN. 
Yes,  it  is. 

JIM. 
And  I  want  Posy. 

TOMLIN. 
What  else  ? 

JIM. 

I  love  your  niece  for  herself.  And  for  her  sake,  not  mine, 
I  hope  to  win  her  father's  consent. 

[JiM  drinks.     TOMLIN  takes  a  turn  up  and  down.] 
I'm  expecting  Mr.  Quinney.     [He  lights  another  cigarette^ 

TOMLIN. 
[Stopping  and  turning]     What  ? 

JIM. 

[With  confidence.]  He'll  be  here  in  a  minute  or  two. 
Very  impulsive  man!  Very  impatient!  He  can't  sleep 
on  this. 


•88  QUINNEYS' 

TOMLIN. 

Not  likely !     You'll  make  him  a  useful  son-in-law.     [Nods 
again,  more  and  more  impressed^ 

JIM. 
[With  slight  conciliation^     Thank  you  again,  sir. 

[Sound  of  a  taxi  is  heard.] 

Ah !  I  thought  so. 

TOMLIN. 

[Cornered.]     Look  ye  here,  my  lad,  it's  my  honest  opinion 
you'd  be  an  ornament  to  any  family. 

[Sell  and  loud  knock] 

JIM. 

It's  pleasant  to  hear  that.     [Rises.]     Shall  I  open  the 
door  ? 

TOMLIN. 
No.     I  will. 

[He  goes  out.     JIM  rises  and  crosses  to  the  hearthrug. 
TOMLIN  enters^  followed  by  QUINNEY.] 

QuiNNEY. 

[Glaring  at  JIM.]     You  here  ? 

JIM. 
[Politely^     I  escorted  the  ladies,  sir. 

QUINNEY. 
You — scoot!     [Points  to  door.] 

JIM. 
No  ;  I  think  I'll  remain.     [Glances  at  TOMLIN.] 

TOMLIN. 

[Putting  tray  of  drinks  on  sideboard.]     Let  the  young  feller 
stay,  Joe.     [He  walks  to  R.  of  table] 


QUINNEYS'  89 

QuiNNEY. 

The  sight  of  'im  makes  me  sick.  [Fiercely.]  Is  it  true, 
Tom,  that  you  tried  to  tempt  this  dog  back  to  your  service  ? 

TOMLIN. 
Does  he  say  that  I  did  ? 

QUINNEY. 
[Trenchantly.]     He  does. 

TOMLIN. 

[Arranging  supper  things  tidily]  In  a  chaffing  way,  so  to 
speak,  I  did  remark  to  the  lad  :  "  If  ever  Mr.  Quinney  has 
no  further  use  for  you,  come  back  to  me,  and  I'll  try  to  keep 
you  out  of  the  workhouse." 

QUINNEY. 

[Scornfully]  Five  quid  a  week,  and  a  commission  upon 
sales  and  purchases  would  do  that  nicely,  hey  ? 

TOMLIN. 

[Moving  to  corner  of  table,  R]  You  are  not  taking  a  jest 
seriously  ? 

QUINNEY. 

I'm  taking  James  seriously.  When  did  you  offer  him 
five  quid  a  week  ? 

[TOMLIN  upsets  salt] 

TOMLIN. 
There  now,  I've  upset  the  salt!     [Business] 

QUINNEY. 

Stop  fidgetting!  When  did  you  offer  him  five  quid  a 
week  ? 

TOMLIN. 
Um !     Some  five  months  ago. 

JIM. 
Six. 
G 


90  QUINNEYS' 

QuiNNEY. 

[Sharply.]  Sure  it  was  before  my  Posy  came  back  from 
school  ?  [Coming  below  L.  head  of  table.] 

TOMLIN. 
I  think  so. 

JIM. 
It  was. 

QUINNEY. 

[Rubbing  his  hands.]  Good!  [Sits  on  table,  L.  hand 
corner]  Why  didn't  you  take  a  rise  and  leave  me  ? 

JIM. 
I  preferred  to  remain  with  you. 

QUINNEY. 
Why  ?     Cash  talks  to  such  as  you. 

TOMLIN. 
Teh !  tch !     Go  easy  with  him,  Joe.     [Sits  R.  head  of  table] 

QUINNEY. 

Has  he  told  that  he  wants  to  marry  my  Posy  ?  [TOMLIN 
nods]  And  that  she  wants  to  marry  him  ?  [TOMLIN  nods 
again.]  The  baggage  ain't  the  judge  of  quality  that  he  is, 
by  gum !  And  our  Susie  backs  'em  up.  That  tears  it — eh  ? 

TOMLIN. 
It — er — complicates  things.     If  your  girl  is  dead  set  on 

him 

JIM. 
She  is. 

QUINNEY. 

[Fiercely]  I  refuse  my  consent,  not  because  James  is  my 
servant,  but  because  he's  after  my  things.  He's  clever 
enough  to  have  bluffed  two  innercent  females  into  believin' 
that  he  wants  my  Posy  without  'em.  Is  that  cheese  ? 


QUINNEYS'  91 

TOMLIN. 

Yes. 

QuiNNEY. 

Give  it  over  here. 

[TOMLIN  pushes  over  cheese,  and  then  rises  and  goes  to 

the  sideboard] 

It'll  take,  may  be,  the  taste  o'  this  out  of  my  mouth.  [Cuts 
some  cheese  viciously]  Bluffed  two  simple  women,  he  has! 
Well,  I've  called  his  bluff.  I've  told  him  that  he  can  take 
Posy,  march  her  out  of  my  house  as  she  is,  and  that  I'll 
leave  my  collection  to  the  nation.  [Eats.] 

TOMLIN. 
Ho! 

QUINNEY. 

I  might  have  downed  him,  but,  by  gum!  the  old  lady 
butted  in.  Swore  solemn  she'd  leave  me  if  I  turned  Posy 
out.  I  think  the  world  of  Susie,  but  she's  as  obstinate  as 
I  am.  Without  another  word,  they  bolted  here.  And  I've 
followed  'em.  I'm  going  to  have  this  out  here  and  now. 

TOMLIN. 

[Thickly.]  I  ain't  feeling  myself  to-night.  Ever  suffer 
from  indigestion  ? 

QUINNEY. 
Never  ! 

TOMLIN. 

[Gloomily]  I  do.  Port,  even  the  best,  on  top  o'  bubbly, 
is  punishing  after  fifty. 

QUINNEY. 

Pull  yourself  together,  old  man.  [To  JIM.]  Now,  James, 
sail  in  and  tell  Mr.  Tomlin  how  you're  tryin'  to  blackmail 
me.  Don't  waste  my  time,  or  his,  or  your  own.  [Sits  L» 
head  of  table] 


92  QUINNEYS' 

JIM. 

[Easily.]     I   can   support   a   wife.     [Humorously.]     I'm 
not  quite  in  a  financial  position  to  support  two  ladies. 

TOMLIN. 
Two  ladies  ? 

JIM. 

[Humorously^     If  Posy  is  turned  out,  Mrs.  Quinney  goes 
with  her.     [Sits.] 

TOMLIN. 

[Rising.     To  QUINNEY.]     Whatever  does  all  this  mean, 
Joe? 

QUINNEY. 

[Savagely.]     It  means,  Sam,  that  I  shall  down  this  up- 
start. 

JIM. 
You  can't.     Excuse  plain-speaking,  sir! 

QUINNEY. 

[Rising.]     I   like  it.     I   was  weaned   on   it.     My   pore 
father  damned  me  before  I  was  born. 

JIM. 
[Pleasantly.]     I  shall  fight  for  Posy  for  all  I'm  worth. 

QUINNEY. 

[With  a  sneer.]     And  what  are  you  worth,  Mr.  Rocker- 
feller  ? 

JIM. 
I  must  refer  you  to  others,  sir. 

[TOMLIN,  during  this  sparring,  has  become  more  and  more 
uneasy,  and  has  moved  round  table,  R.] 

TOMLIN. 

[Innocently.]     Has  this  young  man  any  sort  of  hold  on 
you,  Joe  ? 


QUINNEYS'  93 

QuiNNEY. 

[Explosively.]  Them  damned  Christopher  chairs  are  fakes. 

TOMLIN. 

But  you  bought  'em  believin'  'em  to  be  the  goods  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Moodily.]     And  sold  'em  believin'  'em  to  be  the  goods. 
Eyesight's  rotten ! 

TOMLIN. 
Dear!  dear! 

QUINNEY. 

[Savagely.]     I'm  sorry  for  myself,  but  I'm  sorrier  for  the 
dirty  dog  that  put  'em  up  for  sale.     I'll  hunt  him  down. 

TOMLIN. 

[Nervously.]     It  looks  to  me  as  if  James  could  rob  you  of 
a  hard-earned  reputation. 

JIM. 
I  don't  want  to  do  that. 

TOMLIN. 

[Persuasively.]     Posy  might  do  worse.     She  might  have 
taken  a  fancy  to  a  fool. 

QUINNEY. 

[Furious.]     That'll  do.     You're  on  his  side.     Well,  I  defy 
the  lot  of  you.     Fetch  Susan  and  Posy! 

TOMLIN. 
They're  in  bed  by  this  time. 

QUINNEY. 
I  don't  care  a  dam!     You  fetch  'em  down,  Sam! 

[TOMLIN  sits  R.  head  of  table.] 

You  won't  ?  Then  I  will !  [He  goes  to  the  door.]  Susan ! 
Susan!  [Turning]  She  can  hear  me  right  enough. 
Su — san !  [Goes  off] 


94  QUINNEYS' 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Off]     That  you  callin',  Joe  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Off,]  Who  did  yer  think  it  was  ?  The  Archbishop  o' 
Canterbury  ?  Or  the  First  Lord  o'  the  Admiralty  ?  Come 
you  down  with  young  Posy ! 

TOMLIN. 

[As  QUINNEY  stumps  back.]  Is  that  the  way  you  talk  to 
an  obstinate  female  ? 

QUINNEY. 
Yes,  it  is.     Lord  save  us  from  foolish  questions ! 

TOMLIN. 
[Heavily]     Better  surrender,  Joe  ! 

QUINNEY. 
You  go  to  blazes  ! 

TOMLIN. 

[Significantly.]  Newspapers  could  make  a  lot  o'  copy 
out  of  this!  [Sighs  deeply.] 

[Enter  MRS.  QUINNEY,  followed  by  POSY.  They  have 
evidently  been  talking  upstairs.  MRS.  QUINNEY  has 
removed  her  bonnet  ;  POSY  is  without  her  hat.  They 
enter  with  a  certain  air  of  defiance.  POSY  carries  a  high 
head.  MRS.  QUIN NEY  walks  to  a  chair  and  sinks  into  it.] 

QUINNEY. 
You  ain't  gone  to  bed,  then! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

We've  been  talking  things  over  with  Alice.  She  feels  as 
J  do.  She  married  a  pore  young  man,  as  I  did. 

QUINNEY. 
You  made  a  better  bargain,  old  dear. 


QUINNEYS'  95 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
What  do  you  want,  Joe  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Kindly.]  I  daresay  I  was  a  bit  hasty  just  now.  I  want 
you,  Susie ;  and  I  want  my  own  little  lass.  Come  home 
with  me.  We'll  talk  things  over  more  quietly  to-morrow. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
It  is  to-morrow. 

QUINNEY. 

[Even  more  kindly .]     Come  you  home,  dearie! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Tremulously]  If  you'll  take  back  what  you've  said 
about  James,  I  will. 

QUINNEY. 

Sorry  !  Can't  do  that !  [Moving  away  L.C.  towards 
fireplace.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Then  I  shall  stay  here.     [Tearfully.] 

TOMLIN. 

[Unctuously.]     Susan,  may  I  say  a  few  words  ? 
[PosY  sits  near  JIM.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Tartly]     Provided  they  be  few,  you  may,  Sam  Tomlin. 

QUINNEY. 
'Ark  to  Mrs.  Don't-care-a-damn! 

TOMLIN. 

[Sz'fcy.]  Is  it  possible  that  you  contemplate  leaving  the 
best  and  kindest  husband  in  the  world  ? 

QUINNEY. 
Good!     You  listen  to  Sam,  if  you  won't  to  me. 


96  QUINNEYS' 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

I've  listened  patiently  to  you,  Joe,  for  more  than  thirty 
years. 

QUINNEY. 
Anything  be'ind  that  statement  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

Only  this.  It's  about  time  that  I  did  a  bit  of  talking,  and 
that  you  did  the  listening. 

QUINNEY. 
Been  bottling  things  up,  have  ye  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Yes ;  I  have. 

QUINNEY. 

[L.C]  Then  you  uncork  yourself,  old  dear.  I'll  do  the 
listening,  eh  ?  But  before  you  sail  in,  I  want  to  impress 
this  on  your  female  mind.  James  'ere  is  tryin'  to  blackmail 
me. 

JIM. 
No! 

[PosY  rises.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Blackmail  ?     [Helplessly]     What  does  that  mean  ? 

QUINNEY. 

He  thinks — mind  you,  I  differ  from  him — that  he  can 
hurt  me  in  my  business. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Gracious!    How  ? 

QUINNEY. 
Never  you  mind  how. 

JIM. 
I  want  to  help  Mr.  Quinney  in  his  business. 


QUINNEYS'  97 

POSY. 
[Simply.]     But,  Father,  how  can  James  hurt  you  ? 

QuiNNEY. 

[Irritably.']     It  don't  concern  you,  missie. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Blackmail  ?     Sounds — nasty! 

QUINNEY. 
[Nodding]     Threats. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
What  does  he  threaten  ? 

QUINNEY. 
[Obstinately]     Ask  him.     [Sitting  on  arm  of  chair  down  L] 

POSY. 
[Warmly]     I  don't  believe  it ! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

Nor  do  I.  [She  collects  herself  for  an  immense  effort] 
Joe,  you  force  me  to  choose  between  my  own  child  and  you. 
I  ain't  got  your  brains  ;  but  Posy  wants  me  more  than  you 
do.  Let  me  finish.  It's  bitter  aloes  to  me,  but  sticks  and 
stones  are  more  to  you  than  flesh  and  blood.  I've  swallowed 
the  gall  of  that  tor  my  dear  child's  sake.^  You  can  fall  down 
and  worship  graven  images — and  I  can't.  You  used  to 
love  me. 

QUINNEY. 
Used  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Sorrowfully]  Between  me  and  you  that's  over  and  done 
with. 

QUINNEY. 
No  ;  it  isn't.     Tell  me  what  more  I  can  do  ? 


98  QUINNEYS' 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Promptly.]  Give  your  consent  to  our  Posy  marrying  the 
man  of  her  choice,  not  yours. 

QUINNEY. 
No!     [Rises;  goes  L.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Anything  against  his  moral  character  ? 

QUINNEY. 
That's  as  may  be.     [Sits  in  chair  below  fireplace.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
He's  pore  in  this  world's  goods. 

POSY. 
[Proudly.]     Yes.     But — in  morals — a  millionaire. 

QUINNEY. 
As  a  moral  millionaire,  he's — [rising] — bust! 

POSY.      • 
What  ?     [Rises.] 

QUINNEY. 

[C.  To  JIM.]  I  suppose  you  never  deceived  a  pore  girl 
before  you  flim-flammed  our  Posy  ? 

JIM. 

I  have  not  deceived  anybody. 
[QUINNEY  goes  up  C.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Emotionally.]     He  couldn't. 

QUINNEY. 

If  you'll  kindly  excuse  me,  I'll  step  out  for  a  moment.  I 
want  to  fetch  somebody  what  I  left  in  a  taxi-cab.  [He  goes 
out,  slouiy.] 


QUINNEYS'  99 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Rising  and  walking  down  C.  to  R.]     Mercy  me!     What- 
ever is  he  up  to  now,  I  wonder !     Do  you  know,  Sam  Tomlin? 

TOMLIN. 
[Sententiously.]     All's  fair  in  love  and  war. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

Joe  deceived  his  father  about  me.     Yes,  he  did.     This  is 
a  judgment  on  him.     [Sits.] 

[QUINNEY  comes  back,  followed  by  MABEL  DREDGE.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Lor'!     Miss  Dredge! 

POSY. 
[Rising."]     Mabel  ? 

QUINNEY. 
[Taking  her  hand.]     Yes  ;  my  friend,  Mabel  Dredge. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Mercy  on  us !     What  has  Miss  Dredge  to  do  with  this  ? 

QUINNEY. 

You  wait  and  see,  Mrs.  Asquith.     [To  JIM.]     All  your 
trumps  on  the  table,  James  ? 

JIM. 
Some  of  them.     [Shrugs  his  shoulders.] 

QUINNEY. 

[To  MABEL.]     Now,  Mabel,  you  speak  up.     Tell  the  truth, 
my  lass. 

MABEL. 

[Confused.]     I — I [Looks  imploringly  at  JIM,  who  is 

staring  at  POSY.] 

QUINNEY. 
[Encouragingly.]     Give  it  to  'em  straight,  my  girl. 


ioo  QUINNEYS' 

MABEL. 

[Falteringly.]  I  c-c-can't.  [She  sits  on  chair  head  of 
table,  L] 

QuiNNEY. 

[Patting  her  hand.]     Then  I'll  do  it  for  you.     Posy  ? 

POSY. 
Yes,  Father  ? 

QUINNEY. 
You're  an  honest  lass. 

POSY. 
I  hope  so. 

QUINNEY. 

Are  you  ?  But  yer  grandfather  did  have  a  terrible 
hankerin'  after  other  folks'  possessions,  and  there  may  be 
the  same  taint  in  you. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
No,  there  isn't. 

QUINNEY. 

Good !  Now,  Posy,  do  you  want  to  steal  something  that 
belongs  to  another  young  woman  ? 

POSY. 

[Coming  C.  Hastily]  Of  course  not!  What  do  you 
mean  ? 

QUINNEY. 
[Quietly,  with  true  feeling]     Mabel  here  belongs  to  James. 

JIM. 

[Rising.]     Who  says  so  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Pulling  POSY  to  his  L]  Do  you  dare  to  deny  that  you 
made  love  to  this  young  woman  ? 


QUINNEYS'  101 

JIM. 

Yes,  I  do.  [Calmly.]  Of  course,  I  paid  Miss  Dredge 
some  friendly  attention. 

QuiNNEY. 

Friendly  attention  ?     Nothing  more,  hey  ? 

JIM. 

Nothing. 

QUINNEY. 
I  don't  love  liars,  but  if  I  did,  I  could  hug  you,  my  lad! 

JIM. 

Does  Miss  Dredge  say  that  I  paid  her  anything  more  than 
attention  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Scornfully.]  Not  her!  Evidently  you  ain't  the  payin' 
kind.  Took  what  you  could  get,  and  gave  nothing  in 
return.  That's  you ! 

JIM. 

[With  emphasis.]  I  have  a  great  respect  for  Miss 
Dredge,  but  I  cannot  understand  why  she  is  here. 

QUINNEY. 

Because  I  am  going  to  see  that  she  has  her  rights,  such  as 
they  are. 

POSY. 

[Excitedly.]  Jim,  I  can't  stand  this!  Has  Miss  Dredge 
any  claim  on  you  ? 

JIM. 
None. 

POSY. 
[Fervently.]     I  knew  it! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Obstinately.]     So  did  I ! 


102  QUINNEYS' 

QUINNEY. 

[Encouragingly.]     Speak  up,  lass.     [Pats  her  hand.] 

MABEL. 
[Almost  collapsed.]     I — I   thought  he  loved   me — I — I 

thought  he  meant  to  marry  me.     I 

[JiM  sits.] 

POSY. 

[Kneeling  beside  her.]  Mabel,  I — I  didn't  know  you 
cared.  This  is  terrible.  I'm  so  sorry.  Speak  to  me,  dear! 
Tell  me,  if  you  can,  what's  in  your  heart. 

MABEL. 
[In  a  whisper.]     Don't  marry  him ! 

QUINNEY. 
That's  straight! 

POSY. 

[Still  on  her  knees,  but  looking  up  with  dignity.]  Father, 
please  let  me  talk  to  Mabel. 

[QUINNEY  moves  to  fire] 

[To  MABEL.]     Is  there  any  reason  why  I  shouldn't  marry 
Jim? 

[QUINNEY  stands  in  front  of  fire.] 
Is  there  ? 

MABEL. 
[Distinctly.]     He's  not  good  enough  for  you. 

POSY. 

Oh!  [In  a  sharper  voice.]  On  your  honour,  if  Jim 
wanted  to  marry  you  instead  of  me,  would  you  refuse  him  ? 
[Silence.]  Would  you  ? 

MABEL. 

[Painfully.]  I — I  would  marry  him  if  he  wanted  to 
marry  me. 

[JiM  rises.] 


QUINNEYS'  103 

POSY. 

[Rising,  much  distressed]     I'm  frightened.     I [She 

looks  round,  helplessly  young  and  girlish,  torn  in  two,  dis- 
trusting her  own  judgment.     She  moves  over  to  her  mother] 

QuiNNEY. 

[Grimly.]     He's  frightened,  too. 

[Thus  challenged,  JIM  takes  the  stage.    He  holds  himself 
well,  and  speaks  with  self-possession.] 

JIM. 

I  discovered  long  ago  that  Miss  Dredge's  feeling  for  me 
was  stronger  than  it  should  be.  I  am  placed  in  an  abomin- 
able position.  [He  approaches  MABEL.]  Mabel 

MABEL. 
Yes? 

JIM. 

You  and  Mr.  Quinney  have  forced  my  hand.  I'm  sorry 
to  ask  you  this  question.  Did  I  ever  promise  to  marry  you  ? 

MABEL. 
N-no. 

[She  closes  her  eyes  ;  her  head  sinks  a  little.     POSY  looks 
at  her,  and  then  at  JIM  ;  then  she  crosses  to  her  mother.'] 

POSY. 

Mother! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Wretchedly]  Don't  ask  me  anything!  I  don't  know 
where  I  am !  I  never  felt  so  miserable  in  all  my  life. 

JIM. 

[With  dignity]  Posy,  you  must  choose  between  me  and 
Mabel  who  would  marry  me  herself,  and  at  the  same  time 
advises  you  to  throw  me  over.  I  want  to  spare  her  feelings, 


io4  QUINNEYS' 

which  have  been  overwrought  by  your  father  to  serve  his 
own  ends.  I  can  support  you,  whatever  happens.  Do  you 
trust  me,  or  do  you  not  ? 

QUINNEY. 

No ;   she  doesn't. 

POSY. 
[Desperately.]     Yes,  I  do  ! 

JIM. 
That  is  good  enough  for  me.     [Goes  up.] 

QUINNEY. 

[Furiously.]     Are  you  all  blind  ? 

[PosY  goes  round  to  JIM.] 

Do  you  think  this  girl  is  acting  a  part  ?  Put  up  to  it  by  me  ? 
She  can't  speak,  but  I  say  for  her  that  if  this  dirty  dog 
didn't  promise  her  marriage,  more  shame  to  him! 

[MABEL  lies  back  in  her  chair,  almost  unconscious.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Rising.]     You've  no  right  to  say  that,  Joe. 

POSY. 

[Choked.]     It's  too  much! 

QUINNEY. 
By  gum,  it  is !  « 

POSY. 

[Relentlessly.]  These  false  charges  are  horrible.  You 
first  accuse  Jim  of  blackmailing  you 

QUINNEY. 
That's  right! 

POSY. 

And  you  refuse  to  tell  us  why  or  how.  And  now  you've 
dragged  this  poor  girl  into  it.  Oh !  it's  shameful — shameful ! 
[Falls  into  chair.] 


QUINNEYS'  105 

QuiNNEY. 

Go  on! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

Joe,  if  you  could  see  yourself  as  I  see  you,  you'd  be  very 
sick.  [Sits.] 

QUINNEY. 

You  women  are  fools,  when  it  comes  to  a  love  affair.  I 
appeal  to  you,  Sam  Tomlin.  [Going  forward  to  MABEL'S 
thair.]  Damn  it,  you've  plenty  of  sense.  You  tried  to 
bribe  this  young  fellow  away  from  me. 

TOMLIN. 
That's  a  narsty  word. 

QUINNEY. 

I  ain't  pickin'  my  words  now.  You  tried  to  lure  this  dog 
back  with  a  big  rise.  Why  didn't  he  take  it  ? 

TOMLIN. 

I  don't  know. 

QUINNEY. 

But  I  do.  He  was  sweet  on  this  pore  lass,  carrying  on 
with  her,  wheedling  the  heart  out  of  her.  Then  Posy  came 
back  from  school,  and  he  saw  his  chance.  Give  him  his  due, 
he  gripped  it.  He  chucked  a  poor  lass  for  my  daughter, 
because  he's  after  loot.  Well,  being  the  first  with  her,  he 
captured  Posy,  because  the  child  doesn't  know  a  fake  when 
she  sees  one.  Susan  sides  with  Posy,  bein'  just  such  another 
fool  at  valuations.  But  you  ain't  to  be  deceived ;  your 
eyesight  is  still  keen.  Now — as  between  man  and  man — 
upon  your  solemn  oath — is  this  young  feller  what  these 
women  think  him  to  be,  or  is  he  a  damned  fake  F 

TOMLIN. 

[Nervously.]  I  don't  like  interfering  in  the  domestic 
affairs  of  others. 


106  QUINNEYS' 

QUINNEY. 

You  speak  up. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Please,  Sam. 

[ToMLiN  licks  his  lips  and  glances  nervously  at  JIM,  who 
remains  impassive^ 

TOMLIN. 

[Rising.  Clearing  his  throat.]  Under  protest,  I'll  give 
my  opinion  [JiM  sits]  for  what  it  is  worth — for  what  it  is 
worth. 

QUINNEY. 
No  hedgin' ! 

TOMLIN. 
I  have  been  young 

QUINNEY. 

Skip  them  ancient  times  and  ask  yourself  if  you'd  give 
your  daughter  to  this  man  ? 

TOMLIN. 
[Pompously.]     Under  the  circumstances — yes. 

QUINNEY. 

[Incredulously.]     Wh-a-at  ?     Say  that  again! 

TOMLIN. 

The  young  man  is  clever,  hardworking,  and  bound  to 
succeed. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
I'm  sure  he  never  gave  his  mother  a  minute's  anxiety. 

QUINNEY. 

If  that's  so,  old  dear,  it's  because  his  pore  mother  died 
soon  after  he  was  born,  and,  speaking  for  myself,  I  don't 
blame  her.  [To  TOMLIN.]  And  so,  Sam  Tomlin,  you  side 
against  me — hey  ? 


QUINNEYS'  107 

TOMLIN. 

I  side  with  common  sense.  I've  four  unmarried 
daughters 

QUINNEY. 

I  know  'em. 

TOMLIN. 

And  I  should  be  proud  to  give  any  one  of  them  to  James. 
You'll  have  to  surrender,  Joe.  [Sits.] 

QUINNEY. 

Think  you've  downed  me  ?  Well,  you  haven't  yet.  [To 
MABEL.]  Come,  lass!  [He  assists  MABEL  to  her  feet.] 

[MABEL  looks  dazed.] 
You  clear  out  of  this !     Wait  in  taxi-cab ! 

[He  supports  her  to  the  door,  L.     She  passes  out  wearily* 

QUINNEY  doses  the  door  and  comes  C.] 
Now  for  it !     Susan ! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Yes,  Joe  ? 

QUINNEY. 
Posy! 

POSY. 
Yes,  Father  ? 

QUINNEY. 

You  mark  me  well.  I  ain't  bluffin'.  This  man  thinks  he 
can  hurt  me.  Perhaps  he  can  ;  perhaps  he  can't.  But  I'll 
say  this — you  let  it  soak  in — I'd  sooner  rot  in  gaol  than  give 
my  daughter  to  him.  I'll  never  weaken  on  that.  Never! 
I've  spent  my  life  hunting  the  right  stuff.  And  I've  learnt 
to  loathe  and  despise  rubbish.  Rubbish  is  beastly.  Rub- 
bish is  wicked.  Rubbish  poisons  the  whole  world.  James 
Miggott  is — rubbish!  [Exit.] 

CURTAIN    FALLS 


ACT  IV 

SCENE  :  Same  as  Act  I. 
TIME  :   10.30  next  morning. 

CURTAIN  discovers  MABEL  sitting  at  QUINNEY'S  desk.  She  is 
marking  a  catalogue.  She  looks  very  pale,  with  dark 
lines  under  her  eyes,  but  quite  self-possessed.  QUINNEY 
enters  from  the  landing.  He,  also,  looks  miserable,  as  if 
he  had  passed  a  zuretched  night. 

MABEL. 
[Rising."]     James  wants  to  see  you,  sir. 

QUINNEY. 

[On  R.  of  desk.]  I  dessay.  I'll  see  that  young  man  when 
I'm  ready,  not  before.  [Sitting.']  Has  Mrs.  Quinney 
'phoned  here  ? 

MABEL. 
No,  sir. 

QUINNEY. 

[Sitting  at  his  desk.]  Where  are  those  damned  telegram 
forms  ? 

MABEL. 

[Finding  them]     Here,  sir. 

.08 


QUINNEYS'  109 

QuiNNEY. 

Thank  you,  my  dear.  {He  picks  up  a  pencil,  moistens  it, 
and  writes  out  a  telegram,  which  he  reads  and.  then  folds.] 
Clap  on  a  bonnet,  and  take  this  yourself.  [Gives  it  to  her. 
She  goes,  reading  it.]  I — I  don't  want  James  to  see  it. 

MABEL. 
[Protesting.]     Mr.  Quinney 

QUINNEY. 

There!  There!  I  distrust  everybody.  Hold  hard!  Here, 
take  it  out  of  this.  Bring  me  the  change.  It's  a  sovereign. 
[Gives  her  coin.  As  he  gives  her  the  money  he  takes  her  hand] 
Sleep  badly — um  ? 

MABEL. 
I  didn't  sleep  at  all. 

QUINNEY. 

By  gum!  Nor  did  I.  [Lets  go  her  hand]  Beastly — 
ain't  it  ?  To  toss  about,  tinglin'  all  over.  [Rises]  Per- 
fectly disgustin'!  Look  ye  here,  have  you  had  any  talk 
with  James  this  morning  ? 

MABEL. 

Not  yet. 

QUINNEY. 
Do  you  still  want  him  ? 

[A  pause  ;  MABEL  fidgets] 
I  say — do  you  still  want  him  ? 

MABEL. 
[With  slight  defiance]     Yes  ;   I  do. 

QUINNEY. 

[Kindly]  Then  you  leave  things  to  me.  Cut  along  with 
that  telegram! 

[MABEL  goes,  pausing  at  the  door] 


i  io  QUINNEYS' 

MABEL. 
I  opened  the  business  letters  as  usual.     There's  a  cheque 

from  Mr.  Hunsaker  for  eleven  hundred  guineas.   It's  on  the 

desk. 

[QuiNNEY  nods  ;  MABEL  goes.  QUINNEY  goes  back  to 
his  desk,  and  puts  on  spectacles.  He  turns  over  some 
letters  and,  picks  up  one,  from  which  he  takes  out  a 
cheque.  He  looks  at  it,  and  then  replaces  it  on  his 
desk,  with  a  weight  on  top  of  it.  Toot  of  a  taxi  is 
heard.  QUINNEY  goes  to  the  window,  R.,  to  water  the 
canary,  and  looks  out.  He  comes  back,  after  a  moment, 
grinning  and  rubbing  his  hands,  chuckling  softly.  MRS . 
QUINNEY  comes  in,  wearing  the  clothes  she  went  away 
in.  Her  face  is  pale  and  harassed.  QUINNEY  sits  at 
desk.  She  remains  by  door,  holding  the  handled] 

QUINNEY. 

Ho!  Come  back  to  throw  yourself  at  my  feet  and  ask 
forgiveness,  'ave  you,  Mrs.  Leave-your-husband  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
No,  Mr.  Goggles,  I  have  not. 

QUINNEY. 

[Taking  off  his  spectacles^  I've  watered  the  canary. 
I  haven't  bitten  since  yesterday.  Our  Posy  with  you  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

She  is.  [Speaks  formally,  rather  mincingly.]  We  have 
come  to  pack  up  some  things — a  few  clothes.  Any 
objections  ? 

QUINNEY. 
None.     Meant  all  you  said  last  night  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Every  word. 


QUINNEYS'  in 

QuiNNEY. 

What  a  helpmate! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

Sam  Tomlin  is  downstairs.     I  hate  the  man,  but  you  had 
better  ask  for  his  advice. 

QUINNEY. 

I  often  do,  old  dear  ;  and  as  often  as  not  I've  thanked  God 
that  I  didn't  take  it.     How  is  our  Posy  this  morning  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
The  pore  child  has  cried  her  eyes  out. 

QUINNEY. 

That  sounds  sloppy.     Tell  Sam  to  step  up. 
[She  obeys.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[O//.]     You're  to  come  up,  Sam  Tomlin. 

[MRS.  QUINNEY  goes  out,  QUINNEY'S  face  changes.  He 
looks  uneasy  and  worried.  He  jots  down  some  more 
figures,  and  then  picks  up  Hunsaker's  cheque  and  stares 
at  it  thoughtfully.  He  picks  up  POSY'S  photograph, 
looks  at  it,  is  about  to  replace  it,  sighs,  puts  it  in  his 
inner  breast  pocket.  SAM  enters.  He  wears  a  very 
shiny  hat,  which  he  does  not  remove.  QUINNEY  nods 
unceremoniously^] 

TOMLIN. 
Gloatin'  over  your  treasures,  as  usual! 

QUINNEY. 
Draw  up  a  chair ! 

[TOMLIN  takes  chair  below  door.] 

No,  not  that.  It's  Posy's,  it  won't  bear  you.  Over  there! 
[Points  to  chair  above  door.  TOMLIN  fetches  indicated  chair. ,] 
Have  a  cigar  ? 


ii2  QUINNEYS' 

[He  indicates  a  box  on  the  desk.  TOMLIN,  before  sitting 
down,  picks  up  the  box,  examines  it,  selects  a  cigar, 
smells  it,  and  puts  it  to  his  ear.] 

TOMLIN. 
Seems  all  right. 

QUINNEY. 

They  are  all  right ;  I  smoke  only  the  best  in  this  room. 
[TOMLIN  proceeds  to  light  his  cigar,  eyeing  QUINNEY  as 
he  does  so.    He  sits  with  the  desk  between  himself  and 
QUINNEY.] 

TOMLIN. 
About  this  young  feller,  Joe 

QUINNEY. 

[Genially.]  Business  first.  [Picks  up  cheque}  I  got 
this  from  Mr.  Hunsaker  this  morning.  Cheque  for  the 
chairs.  Eleven  hundred  guineas. 

TOMLIN. 
Quick  profit!     [Glances  at  cheque  and  returns  it.] 

QUINNEY. 

You  sent  Hunsaker  to  me.  Here's  your  commission. 
[Hands  over  second  cheque} 

TOMLIN. 
[Looking  at  it.}    Quite  correct.     [Putting  cheque  in  pocket.} 

QUINNEY. 

[Pushing  a  piece  of  paper  and  a  pen  across  the  desk}  Sign 
that,  please! 

TOMLIN. 
A  receipt  ?     Isn't  your  cheque  a  receipt,  Joe  ? 

QUINNEY. 
A  cheque  don't  state  what  the  money  was  paid  for. 


QUINNEYS'  113 

TOMLIN. 

Very  good!  [Takes  pen  from  QUINNEY  and  pauses  to 
read.]  "  Received  from  Joseph  Quinney  twenty  guineas,  ten 
per  cent,  commission  paid  on  profit  of  sale  of  eight  Chippen- 
dale chairs  to  Cyrus  P.  Hunsaker,  New  Mexico."  Isn't  that 
rather — explicit  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Shortly.]     My  way  o'  doin'  business. 

TOMLIN. 

[With  a  laugh.]  You  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
chairs  were  all  right,  hey  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Sharply.]  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  I  bought  the 
chairs  in  good  faith  for  what  they  purported  to  be.  And 
this  Hunsaker  bought  'em  from  me  believin'  the  same. 

TOMLIN. 

No  complaints.  [He  signs  the  receipt,  and  gives  it  to 
QUINNEY  ;  then  he  pockets  pen.] 

QUINNEY. 
Come  off  it. 

[TOMLIN  returns  pen,  with  a  laugh.] 

TOMLIN. 
Beg  pardon! 

QUINNEY. 

[In  a  different  tone.]     Nice  brother-in-law,  you  are. 

TOMLIN. 
Eh  ?     What  ? 

QUINNEY. 

What  you  take  me  for  ? 


ii4  QUINNEYS' 

TOMLIN. 

A  clever  but  an  obstinate  man,  Joe. 

QuiNNEY. 

Clever !  Well,  I've  found  out  a  thing  or  two  this  morning. 
[Leans  forward.]  I've  been  hot  on  your  trail,  I  have.  You 
sent  those  eight  chairs  to  Christopher's  under  another  name. 
Don't  deny  it.  I've  been  to  Christopher's,  and  I — know. 

TOMLIN. 
Why  not  ? 

QUINNEY. 
I  bought  'em  for  nine  hundred  guineas. 

TOMLIN. 

\Judicially]  The  more  fool — you !  Never  thought  you'd 
be  had? 

QUINNEY. 

I  ain't  had — yet.  [Slily]  You  see,  I've  got  your  re- 
ceipt, Sam.  [Posts  receipt  in  desk.]  Good-night! 

TOMLIN. 
What  of  it  ? 

QUINNEY. 

Only  this.  If  James — or  anybody  else — should  tell  this 
smite-and-spare-not  chap  that  the  chairs  are  not  genuine, 
and  that  I  knew  it — and  that  you  knew  it 

TOMLIN. 
[Defiantly]     I  haven't  admitted  that  I  know  it. 

QUINNEY. 
James  can  prove  that. 

[TOMLIN  moves  uneasily,  and  half  rises] 
Let  me  finish ! 

[TOMLIN  sits  again] 


QUINNEYS'  115 

If  the  truth  is  told  I  shall  have  to  return  Hunsaker's  cheque  ; 
and  you'll  have  to  return  my  cheque. 

TOMLIN. 
No  objections! 

QUINNEY. 

Then,  Sam,  I  shall  be  out  the  nine  hundred  guineas  paid 
to  Christopher's. 

TOMLIN. 
[Nervously.]     You  can't  help  that. 

QUINNEY. 

Yes,  I  can.  That  nine  hundred,  less  Christopher's  com- 
mission, goes  to  you.  If  there's  trouble,  I  shall  exchange 
your  receipt,  Sam,  for  just  the  sum,  neither  more  nor  less, 
which  you  have  received  from  Christopher.  You  will  have 
the  chairs.  [Chuckles.]  Got  it  ? 

TOMLIN. 
Got  what  ? 

QUINNEY. 

If  this  young  feller  downs  Joe  Quinney,  he  downs  Sam 
Tomlin,  too.  You  must  fight  on  my  side  this  morning. 
Hunsaker'll  be  here  at  eleven. 

[TOMLIN  squirms  in  his  chair] 

TOMLIN. 
Then  you  ain't  settled  with  James  yet  ? 

QUINNEY. 
Not  yet. 

TOMLIN. 

[Tremendously  perturbed]  Um !  The  women  won't  give 
in. 

[MABEL  enters] 


ii6  QUINNEYS' 

MABEL. 
Nineteen  and  twopence,  sir. 

QUINNEY. 

Right! 

[MABEL  goes.} 

TOMLIN. 
How  far  do  you  think  the  feller's  gone  with  that  typist  ? 

QUINNEY. 
Probably  as  far  as  she'd  let  him. 

TOMLIN. 

In  my  experience  young  women  who  have  to  earn  their 
living  don't  let  a  man  go  too  far. 

QUINNEY. 

[Sharply.]     I  can't  have  my  Posy's  mind  soiled  by  en- 
quirin'  into  that.     Cut  Mabel  Dredge  out  of  this. 

TOMLIN. 
[Heavily.]     James  must  be  squared. 

QUINNEY. 
Want  to  see  him  ? 
[TOMLIN  nods} 

QUINNEY. 
Then  call  him  up.     [Indicates  tube} 

[TOMLIN  nods.    He  crosses  to  fireplace  and  whistles 
down  tube} 

TOMLIN. 

That  you,  James  ?     You're  to  come  up  at  once.     [Re~ 
places  tube} 

QUINNEY. 
Lettin*  your  cigar  go  out,  ain't  you  ? 


QUINNEYS'  117 

TOMLIN. 

[Disgustedly.]     Don't   feel   like   smokin'    this   morning. 
[Throws  away  cigar  into  fireplace.]     Go  easy  with  him,  Joe! 
[Sits  on  tabouret,  L.C.] 
[JiM  enters.] 

JIM. 

[Going  C.]  Yes,  sir  ?  [To  TOMLIN.]  Morning,  Mr. 
Tomlin. 

TOMLIN. 
[L.C.]    Mornin'. 

QuiNNEY. 

[R.C.]     Bin  usin'  a  Sandow's  Exerciser,  Mr.  Chesty  ? 

TOMLIN. 
Teh!    Teh! 

JIM. 

No.  [Stands  looking  at  the  two  men.  He  goes  to  door,  R.} 
shuts  it,  returns  to  desk,  leaning  on  it.] 

QUINNEY. 
I'm  going  to  make  you  an  offer. 

JIM. 
Very  good,  sir. 

QUINNEY. 

This  young  woman,  Mabel  Dredge,  is  fool  enough  to  want 
you,  for  reasons  which  I  can  guess  at  but  which  I  refuse  to 
discuss  with  you.  Marry  her,  and  I'll  make  her  a — present. 

TOMLIN. 
And  so  will  I. 

JIM. 

[Quietly.]  I  want  Posy.  You  refuse  to  believe  me,  but 
there  it  is.  And  she  wants  me. 


iiS  QUINNEYS' 

QuiNNEY. 

Nothing'll  budge  you  from  that  ? 

JIM. 
Nothing,  sir.     [Turns  up  stage  a  little.] 

[QuiNNEY  rises,  with  a  stifled  exclamation,  and  goes  to 
the  door,  R.  He  opens  it,  and  stands  on  the  landing.] 

QUINNEY. 
Posy!     Posy! 

POSY. 
[Off.]    Yes? 

QUINNEY. 
Come  you  here,  and  your  mother,  too.     [Returns  to  desk.] 

TOMLIN. 
[Nervously.]     Time's  slippin'  by,  Joe. 

QUINNEY. 
[Irritably]     I  know  it.     [Returns  to  desk  and  sits.] 

TOMLIN. 
[R.C.]     No  use  that  I  can  see  callin'  in  the  women. 

[Enter  POSY  and  MRS.  QUINNEY.  POSY  is  dressed  very 
becomingly.  MRS.  QUINNEY  closes  door,  and  then 
comes  down  to  chair  by  desk  and  sits.] 

QUINNEY. 
[Staring  at  POSY.]     Hullo !     Goin'  to  church  ? 

POSY. 

Perhaps ! 

JIM. 

I  can  buy  a  special  licence  to-day. 
[PosY  goes  to  him.] 


QUINNEYS'  119 

QuiNNEY. 

Fine! 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[To  QUINNEY.]     Have  you  listened  to  Sam  ? 

QUINNEY. 

No  ;  but  he's  listened  to  me.  You  do  the  same.  You 
haven't  yet  grasped,  neither  of  you,  that  this  young  fellow 
is  threatening  me. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

I'm  tired  of  hearing  that.  What  does  he  threaten  you 
with  ? 

QUINNEY. 
[Deliberately.]     He  threatens  to  injure  my  reputation. 

POSY. 
How? 

QUINNEY. 

[Showing  feeling.]     You  can  ask  him. 

POSY. 
Can  I  see  Jim  alone  ? 

QUINNEY. 

No. 

TOMLIN. 

[Rises  and  crosses  to  desk.]  Let  the  girl  have  her  way, 
Joe.  She  ain't  a  fool.  She  can  save  the  situation. 

POSY. 

How,  Uncle  ?  [Leaving  him  and  coming  down  a  little,  C. 
JIM  follows  to  end  of  stool] 

TOMLIN. 

If  you  want  to  marry  this  young  man,  make  it  plain  to 
him  that  he  mustn't  threaten  your  dear  father. 


120  QUINNEYS' 

POSY. 

[To  QUINNEY,    touching  him.]     Let  me  see  Jim  alone, 
Daddy. 

QUINNEY. 
Very  well. 

[He  goes  out,  R.  TOMLIN  stands  politely  at  the  door  to  let 
MRS.  QUINNEY  pass.  He  follows  her  out,  closing  door. 
POSY  watches  her  father  off,  then  crosses  to  fireplace.] 

POSY. 

[Decidedly.]     Now,  Jim,  what  does  all  this  mean  ? 
[The  stool  is  between  them.] 

JIM. 
I'd  rather  not  tell  you,  Posy. 

POSY. 

[Decidedly.]     But  you  must.     When  it  comes  to  threaten- 
ing my  father 

JIM. 
[Quietly.]     You  stand  in  with  him  ? 

POSY. 

[Quickly.]     I  don't  say  that,  but  I  want  to  be  in  a  fair 
position  to  judge  between  you. 

JIM. 
What  I  tell  you  may  hurt  you,  dear. 

POSY. 

Then  I  must  be  hurt. 
[JiM  takes  her  hands.] 

JIM. 
\With  feeling.]     How  I  hate  hurting  you ! 

POSY. 
Let's  get  it  over  quick! 


QUINNEYS' 


121 


JIM. 
[Slowly.]     You  believe  your  father  to  be  an  honest  dealer. 

POSY. 

[Warmly.]     So  he  is,  the  most  honest  in  London. 

JIM. 

That's  not  saying  much.  Well,  darling,  I  believe  he  is 
honest,  but  this  morning  is  going  to  try  him  rather— high. 

POSY. 

Oh !     [Withdraws  her  hands  and  sits.] 

JIM. 
[Slowly.]     If  he  isn't  honest,  he'll  consent  to  our  marriage. 

POSY. 
And  if  he  is  honest ? 

Jik. 

We  shall  have  to  do  without  his  consent. 

POSY. 

What  has  Father  done  ? 

JIM. 

[Sits.]  He  bought  those  Christopher  chairs  at  a  big 
figure  believing  them  to  be  authentic  specimens.  He  sold 
them  to  Mr.  Hunsaker  in  that  belief.  I  know  them  to  be 
fakes. 

POSY. 
[Confounded.]     Jim ! 

JIM. 

I  can  injure  his  reputation,  both  as  an  honest  dealer,  and 
as  an  expert.  Now,  between  you  and  me  I  wouldn't  injure 
your  father  for  the  world. 

i 


122  QUINNEYS' 

POSY. 

[Thoughtfully.]     Father  knows  those  chairs  to  be  fakes  ? 

JIM. 
He  does. 

POSY. 
This  is  a  tremendous  test  of  Father. 

JIM. 
It  is. 

POSY. 
I  mean,  it  tests  his  love  for  me. 

JIM. 
Eh? 

POSY. 

If  he  thinks  that  you  can  injure  him  in  his  business,  which 
is  so  dear  to  him,  and  if  he  risks  that  injury,  why  then  he 
must  care  most  awfully  for  me. 

JIM. 
That's  true! 

POSY. 

And — and  I've  never  really  known  how  much  he  does 
care — for  me. 

JIM. 

Win  or  lose,  I  want  you  more  than  anything  else  in  the 
world. 

POSY. 
I'm  not  afraid  of  poverty  with  the  man  I  care  about. 

JIM. 

I  am  afraid  of  poverty  for  the  girl  I  care  about.  Last 
night,  Posy,  you  were  frightened.  Do  you  remember  ? 


QUINNEYS'  123 

[She  nods]  To-day  it  is  my  turn.  I'm  frightened.  I  know 
what  poverty  is.  I  was  educated  at  a  charitable  institu- 
tion. Charity  apprenticed  me  to  a  cabinet-maker — [rises] 
— charity  nearly  buried  me  twice.  I've  known  what  it  is  to 
be  without  food  and  without  money,  and  to  wake  morn- 
ing after  morning  wishing  that  I  had  died  in  the  night.  I 
don't  want  you,  Posy,  to  go  through  what  I've  gone  through; 
and  that's  why  I'm  righting  for  your  father's  consent. 

POSY. 
But  Father  is  fighting  for  me,  too,  isn't  he  ?     [She  rises.] 

JIM. 
[Arrested  by  something  in  her  tone.]     Yes  ;  I  suppose  he  is. 

POSY. 

He  would  be  miserable  without  Mother ;  he  knows  that 
he  is  in  your  power,  and  yet  he  refuses  to  sanction  our 
engagement.  [She  runs  to  door  and  opens  it.]  Father! 
Father! 

[JiM  rises] 

QuiNNEY. 

[Off.]     I  hear  you. 

POSY. 
Come  back,  all  of  you. 

JIM. 

What  are  you  up  to,  Posy  ? 
[She  comes  back  to  him] 

POSY. 
You'll  see. 

[QUINNEY,  MRS.  QUINNEY  and  TOMLIN  make  a  rather 
dramatic  entry,  filing  in  silently,  each  face  wearing  a 
different  expression] 
12 


124  QUINNEYS' 

QuiNNEY. 

[Grimly.]     Well  ?     [Coming  C.] 

POSY. 
[In  her  sweetest  voice.]     Daddy  dear 

QUINNEY. 
[Scornfully.]     Daddy  dear  ?     What  ho  ! 

POSY. 

[Taking  his  arm,  very  coaxingly.]  James  is  not  threaten- 
ing you. 

QUINNEY. 

[Obstinately]  Yes,  he  is ;  humbuggin'  me  and  hum- 
buggin'  you. 

POSY. 

And  I  know  that  he  can't  hurt  you,  because  [looks  inno- 
cently up  into  his  face]  you  are  the  honestest  dealer  in  the 
world,  aren't  you  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Smacking  his  lips]  Yes,  I  am.  It  pays  to  be  honest, 
my  girl. 

POSY. 
That's  not  why  you're  honest  ? 

QUINNEY. 

No,  lass,  it  isn't.  I  swore  solemn  to  have  nothing  to  do 
with  fakes  the  night  you  was  born. 

POSY. 
Daddy — what  a  funny  time  to  choose ! 

QUINNEY. 

[dngrily]  Funny  ?  We'd  been  wed  ten  years  afore  you 
come,  and  your  pore  mother  nearly  died  the  night  you  was 
born  ;  and  so  did  I,  by  gum! 


QUINNEYS'  125 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Now,  Joe,  you  ain't  going  into  that,  are  you  ? 

QUINNEY. 
Yes ;  I  am. 

[MRS.  QUINNEY  sits  R.  of  desk.\ 

Why  not  ?  It's  high  time,  speakin'  of  values,  that  young 
Posy  should  know  what  she  cost — us.  She's  eighteen.  I 
take  it  she  knows  that  she  didn't  drop  from  heaven  into 
the  middle  of  a  gooseberry  bush. 

POSY. 

\With  tears  in  her  voice,  turning  to  her  mother]  Mummie,. 
did  you  nearly  die  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Softly.]     Yes.     [Kisses  her.] 

POSY. 

[To  QUINNEY  ;  almost  inaudibly.]  I  shall  always  re- 
member that. 

QUINNEY. 

[In  a  softer  voice.]  You're  porcelain,  my  pretty,  and  he's 
[his  voice  hardens]  common  pottery. 

POSY. 
He — isn't. 

QUINNEY. 

[Looking  JIM  up  and  down]  He's  nicely  decorated,  and 
there's  a  smooth  buttery  glaze  to  him,  but  his  paste  is 
rotten. 

[MRS.  QUINNEY  goes  to  the  window] 

POSY. 

[With  a  shrug]  James  is  a  real  help  to  you  in  your  busi- 
ness. He  found  out  about  that  Worcester  teapot ;  he's  a 
fine  workman. 


126  QUINNEYS' 

QuiNNEY. 

No  better  than  dozens  I  know,  not  a  bit !     Enough  of  this ! 

TOMLIN. 

We're  wasting  valuable  time.     Mr.  Hunsaker  will  be  here 
directly. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[At  window  ;  turning.]     He  is  here  ! 

[QUINNEY  stands  where  he  is,  scowling.     TOMLIN  joins 
MRS.  QUINNEY  at  window.     POSY  looks  at  her  father] 

TOMLIN. 
What  ?     [Turning.]     Good  Lord !     [Wipes  his  forehead] 

QUINNEY. 
Anything  new  ? 

TOMUN. 
[Coming  down]     Mr.  Dupont  Jordan  is  with  him. 

POSY. 

Who  is  Mr.  Dupont  Jordan  ?     [Going  up] 

TOMLIN. 

[Excitedly]     The  famous  millionaire  and  collector.     [In 
an  impassioned  voice]     Joe,  you're  downed ! 

QUINNEY. 

[Between  his  teeth]    I'm  damned  if  I  am !    [Turns  savagely 
to  JIM.]     Go  and  show  these  gentlemen  up. 

TOMLIN. 
This  may  mean,  Joe,  ruin  for  you  and  me. 

QUINNEY. 
[To  JIM.]     James,  do  as  I  bid  you. 

[JiM  goes] 


QUINNEYS'  127 

TOMLIN. 

[Nervously.]     I  think  I'll  retire. 

QuiNNEY. 

[Standing  in  front  of  him.]  No,  you  don't !  Shoulder  to 
shoulder,  Sam,  till  the  last  shot  is  fired.  [To  the  women.} 
You  two  can  go,  or  stay. 

POSY. 
As  you  are  fighting  for  me,  I  shall  stay. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

I've  looked  on  all  my  life,  and  I  can  do  it  a  little  longer. 
[Joins  POSY.] 

QUINNEY. 
[Going  to  his  desk.]     As  you  please. 

POSY. 
[Crossing  to  him.     MRS.  QUINNEY  by  stool.]     Father! 

QUINNEY. 

[Turning  over  some  papers^  Too  late  to  say  you're  sorry 
now,  my  girl.  [PosY  returns  to  her  mother^ 

[Voices  are  heard  on  the  stairs^] 

HUNSAKER. 

[Off]     Yes,  sir,  a  sanctuary,  and  not  a  thing  in  it  for  sale. 

[JiM  ushers  in  HUNSAKER,  carrying  some  roses,  and 
JORDAN.  JORDAN  is  a  man  of  fifty,  very  quietly 
dressed,  as  unlike  the  blatant  type  of  millionaire  as 
possible.  QUINNEY  rises.  JIM  stands  by  the  door, 
very  pale,  but  determined^] 

QUINNEY. 
[Rising.]     Good-morning,  gentlemen. 


128  QUINNEYS' 

HUNSAKER. 

Good-morning,  Mr.  Quinney.     This  is  Mr.  Dupont  Jordan. 

QUINNEY. 
Glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Jordan. 

[JORDAN,  R.  of  desk,  makes  a  slight  inclination  of  his 
head.] 

HUNSAKER. 

[L.  of  desk  ;  presenting  roses  to  POSY,  C.J  And  this 
young  lady,  Mr.  Jordan,  is  Miss  Posy  Quinney,  the  gem  of 
the  famous  collection. 

[JORDAN  bows  to  her.] 

POSY. 

[To  HUNSAKER.]  What  lovely  roses!  Thank  you  ever 
so  much. 

QUINNEY. 
[Indicating  MRS.  QUINNEY.]     My  wife,  Mr.  Jordan. 

[JORDAN  bows  to  her.] 

TOMLIN. 

[Very  obsequiously^  Mr.  Dupont  Jordan  has  honoured 
me  with  his  patronage. 

HUNSAKER. 

[Heartily.]  What  he  don't  know  about  Chippendale 
furniture  you  could  put  into  a  grain  of  millet  seed,  and  hear 
it  rattle! 

TOMLIN. 
[In  a  hollow  voice.]     Just  so.     Just  so. 

JORDAN. 

[In  a  quiet  voice.]  Mr.  Hunsaker  has  excited  my  curiosity 
.about  these  famous  chairs. 


QUINNEYS'  129 

HuNSAKER. 

He'd  like  to  have  a  look  at  'em. 

TOMLIN. 

[Much  disturbed.]     Didn't  you  say — [looks  at  QUINNEY] — 
that  they  were  already  packed  up  ? 

QUINNEY. 
Packed  and  cased  ;  but  they  can  be  unpacked. 

[TOMLIN,  in  despair,  turns  to  fireplace.] 

JORDAN. 

No,  no,  please.     [He  goes  up,  admiring  room.     POSY  and 
MRS.  QUINNEY  move  L.] 

QUINNEY. 
[To  JIM.]     One  chair,  I  believe,  is  still  unpacked  ? 

JIM. 
Yes. 

QUINNEY. 
Fetch  it! 

[As  JIM  obeys,  HUNSAKER  joins  the  ladies.} 

HUNSAKER. 
Miss  Posy  ? 

POSY. 
Yes. 

HUNSAKER. 
You  look  fine  this  morning. 

JORDAN. 
[At  cabinet^     A  superb  cabinet. 

QUINNEY. 
Seventeenth  century.     \Joins  JORDAN.] 


130  QUINNEYS' 

JORDAN. 
[Examining  it.]     Early  seventeenth.     A  museum  piece. 

QUINNEY. 

It  is.     I  sometimes  wonder  whether  it  will  form  part  of 
the  National  Collection. 

JORDAN. 
Was  it  one  of  your  happy  bargains  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Glancing  at  POSY.]     One  way  or  another,  it's  cost  me 
nearly  £5,000. 

JORDAN. 
£5,000.     Surely  not! 

QUINNEY. 
Oh  I  know  it's  not  worth  that. 

[JiM  enters,  R.,  carrying  an  arm-chair,  which  he  sets  down 
carefully  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  then  stands 
back  of  desk.  TOMLIN  betrays  nervousness.  QUINNEY 
smiles  derisively^ 

HUNSAKER. 

Ah,  the  chair! 

[PosY  alert  and  watchful.] 
Now,  Mr.  Jordan!     Here,  sir,  is  a  chair  that  is  a  chair! 

JORDAN. 
Beautiful!     [To  QUINNEY,  as  he  adjusts  pince-nez.]     May 

I ? 

QUINNEY. 
Examine  it  ?     Aye,  do,  Mr.  Jordan. 

[JORDAN  proceeds  to  make  a  brisk  examination  :  the 
tension  grows  as  he  does  so.  JIM  watches  QUINNEY. 
POSY  looks  at  JORDAN.  JORDAN  sets  the  chair  down. 
There  is  a  pause.  POSY  hangs  on  his  words.] 


QUINNEYS'  131 

JORDAN. 

Exquisite!     The  hand  of  the  master  indeed.     Hunsaker, 
I  covet! 

HUNSAKER. 

Then  pack  it  up  quick,  young  feller,  in  case  Mr.  Jordan 
pockets  it.     [He  and  JORDAN  laugh.     A  pause.] 

QuiNNEY. 

Well,  d'ye  hear,  James  ?     [JAMES  doesn't  move.] 

POSY. 
[Impulsively  to  her  father]     Oh !  but  Daddy 

QUINNEY. 
[Waving  her  aside.]     You  be  still,  my  lass! 

[JORDAN  and  HUNSAKER  are  slightly  mystified.  TOM- 
LIN  alarmed.  JAMES  torn  between  his  honesty  and 
love.  A  -pause.  Then 

QUINNEY. 

[Arrestingly.~\     You're   sure   the   chair   is   genuine,    Mr. 
Jordan  ? 

JORDAN. 
Yes. 

QUINNEY. 
And  you,  Sam  Tomlin  ? 

TOMLIN. 
Oh — er — certainly — ^rtainly. 

QUINNEY. 
Good! 

JIM. 

But — sir ! 

QUINNEY. 
Eh!     What's  that  ?     Speak  up,  my  lad! 

JIM. 
It's  not  for  me  to  speak,  sir. 


132  QUINNEYS' 

QuiNNEY. 

Bashful  at  last,  eh  ?  Then  I  will.  Mr.  Hunsaker,  I 
wired  to  you  this  morning  to  say  that  there  was  some  doubt 
about  these  chairs. 

HUNSAKER. 
You  don't  say! 

JORDAN. 
Doubt?  Not  possible! 

QUINNEY. 

I  bought  these  chairs  as  genuine.  I  sold  'em  to  you  as 
genuine,  but  my  foreman  here  says  they're  not. 

JORDAN. 
Your  foreman  is  mistaken,  Mr.  Quinney. 

QUINNEY. 
You  think  so  ? 

[JORDAN  nods."] 

Then  my  eyes  are  not  the  only  ones  failing.  You  looked 
at  the  genuine  half,  Mr.  Jordan.  But,  see  here  !  [Shows 
JORDAN  faked  parts.]  Feel  this.  Look  at  that  ribbon 
work!  One  half  is  George  II,  the  other's  George  V. 

JORDAN. 
[Convinced,  taken  aback.]     Dear  me!  dear,  dear!     You're 

right,  Mr.  Quinney,  and  I  could  have  sworn [Abruptly 

.to  JAMES.]     What  aroused  your  suspicions,  young  man  ? 
[PosY  walks  round  to  R.C.  above  desk.] 

JIM. 

I  can't  claim  much  credit.  I  happen  to  know  the  cabinet- 
maker who  did  the  job. 

[ToMLiN  displays  uneasiness.] 
JORDAN 
Really! 

QUINNEY. 
I'd  like  to  know  him,  too.     Who  is  he  ? 


QUINNEYS'  133 

JIM. 
I  did  the  job  myself! 

QUINNEY. 
[Startled.]     You  ? 

POSY. 
Oh! 

[JiM  nods.] 

QUINNEY. 
When  ? 

JIM. 
When  I  was  working — 

[TOMLIN  grows  still  more  uneasy .] 
for  another  dealer. 

[TOMLIN  wipes  his  forehead  and  smiles  feebly.] 
I  need  hardly  add  that  I  am  innocent  of  any  attempt  to 
pass  the  chairs  off  as  being  genuine. 

QUINNEY. 

[To  HUNSAKER.]     I  told  you  we  dealers  was  had  some- 
times. 

TOMLIN. 

[Unctuously.]     Sometimes,  gentlemen  ;  not  often — thank 
God  !     [4ssum.es  a  majestic  attitude^ 

QUINNEY. 
[To  JIM.]     Ton  did  the  job,  my  lad  ? 

[For  answer,  JIM  goes  C.,  and  whips  out  the  seat  of  the 
chair.  He  shows  QUINNEY  a  mark  upon  the  woodwork 
underneath.] 

JIM. 
My  mark,  sir. 

[He  replaces  the  seat,  and  at  a  gesture  from  QUINNEY  puts 
the  chair  against  the  wall,  near  the  window  up  R. 
POSY  joins  him.] 


134  QUINNEYS' 

HUNSAKER. 

[Excitedly.]     I  bought  the  chairs  in  good  faith,  and  I'll 
stand  by  my  bargain. 

QuiNNEY. 

[Firmly.]  I  couldn't  allow  that.  [Crosses  to  desk.] 
[The  grouping  is  as  follows  :  POSY  is  slightly  back  with 
her  mother.  QUINNEY  is  at  desk,  centre,  with  JORDAN 
L.C.  HUNSAKER  is  down  R.  TOMLIN,  now  quite 
himself,  stands  upon  the  hearthrug,  surveying  the- 
proceedings  with  a  bland  smile.] 

QUINNEY. 

[To  HUNSAKER.]     Here  is  your  cheque. 
[HUNSAKER  takes  it.] 

JORDAN. 

[To  QUINNEY.]     I  congratulate  you,  Mr.  Quinney.     Your 
foreman  is  a  master-craftsman,  more — an  artist. 

JIM. 
Thank  you,  sir.     [Coming  down  to  JORDAN'S  right  hand.] 

HUNSAKER. 

Mr.  Quinney,  this  is  a  chin-smasher  for  me  ;  you're  a  dead 
square  man,  sir.     [Holds  out  his  hand.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
[Proudly.]     I  should  hope  so. 

HUNSAKER. 
Suffering  Moses!     You're  out  a  clean  nine  hundred  ? 

QUINNEY. 
Not  quite  that,  am  I,  Sam  ? 

TOMLIN. 

No.     [Superbly.]     We  dealers  are  prepared  to  pay  for  our 
mistakes  ;  but  we  don't  want  them  made  public. 


QUINNEYS'  135 

HUNSAKER. 

You  bet  they  won't  be  made  public  by  Mr.  Jordan  or  me. 

QuiNNEY. 

[With  his  eye  on  TOMLIN.]  Mr.  Tomlin  is  an  honourable 
man. 

[TOMLIN  inflates.] 

We  shall  settle  this  loss  between  ourselves. 
[TOMLIN  deflates.] 

HUNSAKER. 
Mr.  Tomlin  is  O.K.  too. 

TOMLIN. 

[Effusively.]  Always  pleased  to  see  you  in  Bond  Street, 
gentlemen.  Good-day.  Good-day. 

[He  goes  out,  carrying  a  high  head.     JIM  opens  door. 
MRS.  QUINNEY  and  POSY  drift  over  L.] 

HUNSAKER. 

And  now,  Mr.  Quinney,  \waves  cheque]  I  hate  to  carry  this 
away  with  me.  I'd  like  to  send  back  to  the  great  and  grow- 
ing town  of  Hunsaker  a  souvenir  of  this  morning.  Can't 
you  let  me  have  something  else  ? 

QUINNEY. 
By  gum !     You  can  have  anything  in  this  room  you  want. 

HUNSAKER. 
[Looking round.]  Gee! 

QUINNEY. 

[Slily.]  I'll  leave  it  to  Mr.  Jordan.  He  knows  values. 
If  he  sees  anything  worth  eleven  hundred  guineas,  you  can 
have  it  at  that  price. 

HUNSAKER. 
Great!     It's  up  to  you,  Mr.  Jordan. 

JORDAN. 

That  lac  cabinet  is  worth  at  least  the  sum  you  mention. 
[Pause.] 


136  QUINNEYS' 

QuiNNEY. 

If  you  want  it,  Mr.  Hunsaker,  it's  yours. 

HUNSAKER. 
You  bet. 

[He  hands  over  the  cheque,  which  QUINNEY  places  on  his 
desk] 

JORDAN. 

[Offering  his  hand.]  If  you  will  excuse  me,  I  must  go  now. 
We  shall  do  business  together,  Mr.  Quinney. 

QUINNEY. 
Glad,  I'm  sure. 

JORDAN. 
I  hope  to  come  back  often.     [Exit.] 

HUNSAKER. 

Good-bye,  Miss  Posy !  Good-bye,  Mrs.  Quinney!  Good- 
bye, Mr.  Quinney! 

[HUNSAKER  shakes  hands  with  the  ladies,  and  exits.     JIM 
opens  door  as  QUINNEY  and  HUNSAKER  go  out] 

POSY. 

There!  Oh,  Mumsie,  Jim,  isn't  Daddy  splendid  ?  I 
knew  it!  I  knew  it! — I  used  to  tell  the  girls  at  school  that 
he  was  the  most  honest  dealer  in  London.  Didn't  I, 
Mumsie  ? 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
It  didn't  need  telling. 

JIM. 
Posy,  do  you  know  what  it  means  ? 

POSY. 

What  I  stand  up  in!  Yes.  That  is  why  I  put  on  my 
best,  Darling! 

[QUINNEY  re-enters.] 


QUINNEYS'  137 

POSY. 
[Excitedly.]     Daddy,  I  am  proud  of  you. 

QuiNNEY. 

[Grimly.]  Before  we  begin  to  throw  bouquets  at  each 
other,  I  want  to  prove  to  your  mother  and  you  that  I  care 
for  persons  more  than  things.  [Goes  to  door,  L.]  Mabel — 

MABEL. 

[Off.]     Yes,  sir. 

QUINNEY. 
Come  inside,  my  lass. 

[Enter  MABEL.] 
Now  then,  do  you  still  care  for  this  young  man  r 

MABEL. 
[Nervously^     Ye-es. 

QUINNEY. 
Speak  up,  my  dear! 

MABEL. 
[More  firmly]     Yes  ;   I  do. 

QUINNEY. 

[At  back  of  desk  ;  to  POSY.]  Posy,  I  know  the  value  of 
money,  because  I've  made  it.  Money  can  buy  nearly 
everything.  Money  can  buy  you. 

POSY. 
It  can't. 

QUINNEY. 
It  can  buy  you  from  him. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

[Sitting  on  stool,  L.C.,  POSY  by  her.     JIM  L.C.]     You  ain't 
the  judge  of  quality  you  was,  Joe. 
QUINNEY. 

Don't  you  butt  in  yet,  old  dear!  [Endorses  cheque] 
Now,  James,  here's  a  nice  cheque  for  eleven  hundred  guineas. 


i38  QUINNEYS' 

— endorsed.  I  propose  to  offer  you  this  cheque  and  Mabel 
Dredge.  More,  I'll  double  your  salary,  because — as  Mr. 
Jordan  says — you  are  a  master-craftsman.  My  lad,  you 
must  choose,  and  choose  quick,  between  Mabel  Dredge,  and 
this  cheque,  and  five  quid  a  week,  or — [he  pauses  dramati- 
cally]— Posy,  in  what  she  has  on,  and  her  mother,  and  not 
a  farthing  from  me,  neither  now,  nor  later.  [He  holds  out 
the  cheque  with  an  ironical  smile.] 

[JAMES  looks  at  POSY.     POSY  displays  uneasiness,  and 

moves  nearer  to  her  mother] 

[Moving  forward  ;  tapping  cheque]  And  the  cheque  won't 
be  on  offer  long,  my  lad! 

[JiM  crosses  to  MABEL.     POSY  clutches  her  mother] 

JIM. 
Mabel  ? 

MABEL. 
[Nervously]     Yes,  Jim  ? 

JIM. 

[Gently.]  Did  you  honestly  believe  that  my  friendship 
for  you  meant  something  else  ? 

MABEL. 
[Defiantly].      Yes  ;  I  did,  and  do. 

JIM. 

I'm  very  sorry.  I  liked  you  ;  I  thought  you  were  a  good 
sort ;  but  I  never  made  love  to  you.  I  want  Posy — and 
I'll  take  her — bless  her! — as  she  stands.  [To  QUINNEY.] 
That's  my  answer. 

MABEL. 

[With  agitation]  I'm  sorry,  too,  Jim.  [To  POSY.]  I 
tried  to  take  him  from  you,  and  I've  failed.  [At  door.] 
But,  I'd  do  it  again,  if  I  thought  I  could  get  him.  [She 
rushes  from  the  room] 


QUINNEYS'  139 

QUINNEY. 

Um !     Come  you  here,  my  lad ! 

[JiM  approaches  ;  QUINNEY  stares  at  him.] 
Where's  my  specs  ?     [He  puts  them  on,  and  continues  exami- 
nation^]    You'll  take  her,  as  she  stands — hey  ? 

JIM. 
Gladly. 

QUINNEY. 

And  Mrs.  Quinney  with  her  ? 

JIM. 
I'll  do  my  best  to  give  them  both  a — home. 

QUINNEY. 
[Slowly.]     By  gum!    I  was  mistaken  ;  you  are — quality  ! 

POSY. 
Father! 

QUINNEY. 
Come  you  here,  too. 

[She  obeys  ;  he  looks  at  her  fondly .] 

I  mean  to  hold  tight  on  to  you,  Posy,  and  to  James,  also. 
I  want  both  of  you. 

POSY. 
Father,  then  you  do  love  me  ? 

QUINNEY. 

[Solemnly.]  By  God!  I  do.  [With  a  return  to  his  former 
manner^  Take  her,  James,  and  scoot ! 

[They  glance  at  him  ;  he  points  to  the  door  ;  they  go  outy 
hand  in  hand.] 

QUINNEY. 

[To  SUSAN.]  Ain't  I  a  reglar  rag-bag  o'  surprises  ? 
[Looks  at  cabinet.]  Lordy !  Lordy !  [Going  up  to  cabinet^] 
How  I  hated  parting  with  that  old  friend! 


140  QUINNEYS' 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
You  was  ready  enough  to  part  with  me, 

QUINNEY. 

Go  it,  Mrs.  Fly-by-night!  [Going  down  L.  of  stool.  Sits 
on  big  chair.]  I've  been  ploughin'  a  bit  too  near  danger  line. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 

I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,  Joe.  And  I  do  hope  this 
has  been  a  lesson  to  you.  Speakin'  personally,  I  shall  never 
feel  the  same  again. 

QUINNEY. 

[Holding  her  affectionately}  Lord  love  your  simple 
heart,  Susie !  Men  and  women  don't  change  as  easy  as  that. 
You'll  go  on  bein' — so  to  speak — the  same  silly,  sweet  old 
dear  you  always  have  been,  and  I  shall  remain  Joe  Quinney, 
a  most  remarkable  man,  and  a  perfect  model  of  a  husband 
and  father.  By  gum!  [Rises.] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
What  is  it  ? 

[He  peers  behind  screen  and  comes  back.} 

QUINNEY. 
Let's  have  a  shot,  old  lass,  at  that  butterfly  kiss. 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Go  on,  Joe ! 

QUINNEY. 

Bend  down  your  cheek,  love!  [He  gives  her  a  butterfly 
kiss] 

MRS.  QUINNEY. 
Well? 

QUINNEY. 
Rotten!     [He  pulls  her  on  to  his  knee  and  cuddles  her  as 

CURTAIN    FALLS 


GARDEN    CITY   PRESS   LIMITED,    PRINTERS,    LETCHWORTH,    ENGLAND. 


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